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LONGFELLOW 
DAY- BY- DAY 



EDITED; BY 

ANNA • H • SMITH 




NEW -YORK 

THOMAS . Y. CROWELL . COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 



COPYRIGHT, 1906, BY THOMAS Y. CROWELL 8c CO. 
PUBLISHED, SEPTEMBER, 1906 



^'4^ 






COMPOSITION AND ELECTROTYPE PLATES BY 
D. B. UPDIKE, THE MERRYMOUNT PRESS, BOSTON 



JANUARY 



JANUARY FIRST 

A LL are architedls of Fate, 
/\ Working in these walls of Time ; 
JL -^ Some with massive deeds and great, 
Some with ornaments of rhyme. 

Build to-day, then, strong and sure, 

With a firm and ample base ; 

And ascending and secure 

Shall to-morrow find its place. 

TAe Butlden 

JANUARY SECOND 

O thou sculptor, painter, poet ! 

Take this lesson to thy heart : 
That is best which lieth nearest ; 
Shape from that thy work of art. 

T:he Ladder of St. Augustine 

JANUARY THIRD 

All common things, each day's events. 
That with the hour begin and end, 
Our pleasures and our discontents. 

Are rounds by which we may ascend. 

T/ie Ladder of St, Jugust/ne 



JANUARY FOURTH 

Will ye promise me here, (a holy promise ! ) to 
cherish 

God more than all things earthly, and every man 
as a brother ? 

Will ye promise me here, to confirm your faith 
by your living, 

Th' heavenly faith of afFe6tion ! to hope, to for- 
give, and to suffer. 

Be w^hat it may your condition, and vi^alk before 
God in uprightness? 

T^he Children of the hordes Supper 

JANUARY FIFTH 

Bear through sorrow, wrong, and ruth, 

In thy heart the dew of youth, 

On thy lips the smile of truth. 

Maidenhood 

JANUARY SIXTH 

Lead me to mercy's ever-flowing fountains; 

For thou my shepherd, guard, and guide shalt be. 

I will obey thy voice, and wait to see 
Thy feet all beautiful upon the mountains. 

T:he Good Shepherd 

JANUARY SEVENTH 

Chill airs and wintry winds ! my ear 

Has grown familiar with your song; 

I hear it in the opening year, — 

I listen, and it cheers me long. 

Woods in Wlntef 



JANUARY EIGHTH 

I am weary 
Of the bewildering masquerade of Life, 
Where strangers walk as friends, and friends as 

strangers j 
Where whispers overheard betray false hearts ; 
And through the mazes of the crowd we chase 
Some form of loveliness, that smiles, and beckons. 
And cheats us with fair words, only to leave us 
A mockery and a jest; maddened, — confused, — 
Not knowing friend from foe. 

The Spanish Student 

JANUARY NINTH 

Ah ! when the infinite burden of life descendeth 
upon us. 

Crushes to earth our hope, and, under the earth, 
\n the graveyard, — ■ 

Then it is good to pray unto God ; for his sorrow- 
ing children 

Turns he ne'er from his door, but he heals and 
helps and consoles them. 

The Children of the hordes Supper 

JANUARY TENTH 

Sacred heart of the Saviour 1 O inexhaustible foun- 
tain ! 

Fill our hearts this day with strength and submis- 
sion and patience 1 

E'vangeline 

[3] 



JANUARY ELEVENTH 

Patience ; accomplish thy labor ; accomplish thy 
work of affeilion ! 

Sorrow and silence are strong, and patient endu- 
rance is godlike. 

Therefore accomplish thy labor of love, till the 
heart is made godlike, 

Purified, strengthened, perfedled, and rendered 

more worthy of heaven 1 

Evangeline 

JANUARY TWELFTH 

Then in Life's goblet freely press 
The leaves that give it bitterness, 
Nor prize the colored waters less. 
For in thy darkness and distress 
New light and strength they give ! 

The Goblet of Life 

JANUARY THIRTEENTH 

Saint Augustine ! well hast thou said, 

That of our vices we can frame 
A ladder, if we will but tread 

Beneath our feet each deed of shame ! 

The Ladder of St. Augustine 

JANUARY FOURTEENTH 

All thoughts of ill ; all evil deeds. 

That have their root in thoughts of ill; 

Whatever hinders or impedes 

The a6lion of the nobler will ; — = 

r4i 



All these must first be trampled down 
Beneath our feet, if we would gain 

In the bright fields of fair renown 
The right of eminent domain. 

The Ladder of St. Augustine 

JANUARY FIFTEENTH 

Ah ! on her spirit within a deeper shadow had 
fallen, 

And from the fields of her soul a fragrance celes- 
tial ascended, — 

Charity, meekness, love, and hope, and forgive- 
ness, and patience ! 

E'vangeline 

JANUARY SIXTEENTH 

Patience and abnegation of self, and devotion to 
others, 

This was the lesson a life of trial and sorrow had 
taught her* 

So was her love diffused, but, like to some odor- 
ous spices. 

Suffered no waste nor loss, though filling the air 
with aroma. 

Other hope had she none, nor wish in life, but to 
follow 

Meekly, with reverent steps, the sacred feet of 

her Saviour. 

E'vangeline 



[5] 



JANUARY SEVENTEENTH 

But a celestial brightness — a more ethereal beauty — 

Shone on her face and encircled her form, when, 
after confession. 

Homeward serenely she walked with God's bene- 
diction upon her. 

When she had passed, it seemed like the ceasing 

of exquisite music. 

Enjangeline 

JANUARY EIGHTEENTH 

We cannot walk together in this world ! 
The distance that divides us is too great ! 
Henceforth thy pathway lies among the stars ; 

I must not hold thee back. 

The Spanish Student 

JANUARY NINETEENTH 

O weary hearts ! O slumbering eyes ! 
O drooping souls, whose destinies 
Are fraught with fear and pain, 
Ye shall be loved again ! 

No one is so accursed by fate, 
No one so utterly desolate. 

But some heart, though unknown, 

Responds unto his own. 

Endymion 



[6] 



JANUARY TWENTIETH 

Ye voices, that arose 

After the Evening's close, 

And whispered to my restless heart repose ! 

Go, breathe it in the ear 
Of all who doubt and fear. 

And say to them, " Be of good cheer !" 

UEn'vot 

JANUARY TWENTY-FIRST 

Our feelings and our thoughts 
Tend ever on, and rest not in the Present. 
As drops of rain fall into some dark well. 
And from below comes a scarce audible sound, 
So fall our thoughts into the dark Hereafter, 
And their mysterious echo reaches us. 

The Spanish Student 

JANUARY TWENTY-SECOND 

Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant ! 

Let the dead Past bury its dead ! 

A61, — aft in the living Present ! 

Heart within, and God o'erhead ! 

A Psalm of Life 

JANUARY TWENTY-THIRD 

O holy Night ! from thee I learn to bear 

What man has borne before ! 
Thou layest thy finger on the lips of Care, 
And they complain no more. 

Hymn to the Night 

[7l 



JANUARY TWENTY-FOURTH 

O sleep, sweet sleep ! 
Whatever form thou takest, thou art fair, 
Holding unto our lips thy goblet filled 
Out of Oblivion's well, a healing draught ! 

'^he Spanish Studejit 

JANUARY TWENTY-FIFTH 

Were half the power, that fills the world with 
terror. 
Were half the wealth, bestowed on camps and 
courts. 
Given to redeem the human mind from error, 
There were no need of arsenals nor forts. 

"The Arsenal at Springfield 

JANUARY TWENTY-SIXTH 

The warrior's name would be a name abhorred ! 

And every nation, that should lift again 
Its hand against a brother, on its forehead 

Would wear for evermore the curse of Cain ! 
I'he Arsenal at Springfield 

JANUARY TWENTY-SEVENTH 

Then, through the silence overhead, 
An angel with a trumpet said, 
"For evermore, for evermore, 
The reign of violence is o'er!" 
And, like an instrument that flings 
Its music on another's strings, 

[8 ] . 



The trumpet of the angel cast 

Upon the heavenly lyre its blast, 

And on from sphere to sphere the words 

Reechoed down the burning chords, — 

"For evermore, for evermore. 

The reign of violence is o'er ! " 

'The Occultation of Orion 

JANUARY TWENTY-EIGHTH 

Cross against corslet, 

Love against hatred, 

Peace-cry for war-cry ! 

Patience is powerful ; 

He that o'ercometh 

Hath power o'er the nations ! 

The Saga of King Olaj 

JANUARY TWENTY-NINTH 

Out of the bosom of the Air, 

Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken, 
Over the woodlands brown and bare 

Over the harvest-fields forsaken. 

Silent, and soft, and slow 

Descends the snow. 

Sno^-w-Tlahes 



[9] 



JANUARY THIRTIETH 

Even as our cloudy fancies take 

Suddenly shape in some divine expression, 

Even as the troubled heart doth make 

In the white countenance confession, 

The troubled sky reveals 

The grief it feels. 

Sno'w-Flakes 

JANUARY THIRTY-FIRST 

This is the poem of the air, 

Slowly in silent syllables recorded; 

This is the secret of despair, 

Long in its cloudy bosom hoarded. 

Now whispered and revealed 

To wood and field. 

Snonv-Flakes 



[ 'O] 



FEBRUARY 

FEBRUARY FIRST 

ONWARD its course the present keeps, 
Onward the constant current sweeps, 
Till life is done ; 

And, did we judge of time aright. 
The past and future in their flight 
Would be as one. 

Coplas de Manrique 

FEBRUARY SECOND 

But at length the feverish day 
Like a passion died away, 
And the night, serene and still. 
Fell on village, vale, and hill. 

Daylight and Moonlight 

FEBRUARY THIRD 

All are sleeping, weary heart ! 
Thou, thou only sleepless art ! 
All this throbbing, all this aching, 
Evermore shall keep thee waking, 
For a heart in sorrow breaking 
Thinketh ever of its smart ! 

The Spanish Student 



[ " ] 



FEBRUARY FOURTH 

This life of ours is a wild aeolian harp of many a 

joyous strain, 
But under them all there runs a loud perpetual 
wail, as of souls in pain. 

The Spanish Student 

FEBRUARY FIFTH 

Faith alone can interpret life, and the heart that 

aches and bleeds with the stigma 
Of pain, alone bears the likeness of Christ, and 
can comprehend its dark enigma. 

T^he Spanish Student 

FEBRUARY SIXTH 

Why should I live ? Do I not know 
The life of woman is full of woe ? 
Toiling on and on and on, 
With breaking heart, and tearful eyes, 
And silent lips, and in the soul 
The secret longings that arise, 
Which this world never satisfies ! 
Some more, some less, but of the whole 
Not one quite happy, no, not one ! 

The Spanish Student 



[ 12] 



FEBRUARY SEVENTH 

Talk not of wasted afFeftion, affedlion never was 
wasted ; 

If it enrich not the heart of another, its waters, re- 
turning 

Back to their springs, like the rain, shall fill them 
full of refreshment ; 

That which the fountain sends forth returns again 
to the fountain. 

E'vangeline 

FEBRUARY EIGHTH 

Think of thy brother no ill, but throw a veil over 
his failings. 

Guide the erring aright; for the good, the hea- 
venly shepherd 

Took the lost lamb in his arms, and bore it back 
to its mother. 

This is the fruit of Love, and it is by its fruits that 
we know it. 

The Children of the Lord's Supper 

FEBRUARY NINTH 

Love is the creature's welfare, with God ; but Love 

among mortals 
Is but an endless sigh ! He longs, and endures, and 

stands waiting, 
SuflFers and yet rejoices, and smiles with tears on 

his eyelids. 

The Children of the Lord's Supper 

{ '3] 



FEBRUARY TENTH 

Hope, — so is called upon earth, his recompense, 

— Hope, the befriending. 
Does what she can, for she points evermore up to 

heaven, and faithful 
Plunges her anchor's peak in the depths of the 

grave, and beneath it 

Paints a more beautiful world, a dim, but a sweet 

play of shadows ! 

The Children of the LorcTs Supper 

FEBRUARY ELEVENTH 

All is of God ! If he but wave his hand. 

The mists coUedl, the rain falls thick and loud. 
Till, with a smile of light on sea and land, 
Lo ! he looks back from the departing cloud. 

"The T<vuo Angels 

FEBRUARY TWELFTH 

Angels of Life and Death alike are his; 

Without his leave they pass no threshold o'er; 
Who, then, would wish or dare, believing this. 
Against his messengers to shut the door ? 

The Two Atigels 

FEBRUARY THIRTEENTH 

When winter winds are piercing chill, 

And through the hawthorn blows the gale, 
With solemn feet I tread the hill. 
That overbrows the lonely vale. 

Woods in Winter 

[ H] 



FEBRUARY FOURTEENTH 

O'er the bare upland, and away 

Through the long reach of desert woods, 
The embracing sunbeams chastely play, 
And gladden these deep solitudes. 

Woods in Winter 

FEBRUARY FIFTEENTH 

The day is ending, 
The night is descending; 
The marsh is frozen. 
The river dead. 

Through clouds like ashes 
The red sun flashes 
On village windows 
That glimmer red. 

Afternoon in February 



FEBRUARY SIXTEENTH 

A radiance, streaming from within. 

Around his eyes and forehead beamed, 

The Angel with the violin, 

Painted by Raphael, he seemed. 

He lived in that ideal world 

Whose language is not speech, but song. 

The Wayside Inr 



i >5] 



FEBRUARY SEVENTEENTH 

To me the thought of death is terrible, 
Having such hold on life. To thee it is not 
So much even as the lifting of a latch ; 
Only a step into the open air 
Out of a tent already luminous 
With light that shines through its transparent 
walls. 

pure in heart ! from thy sw^eet dust shall grow^ 
Lilies, upon whose petals will be written 

"Ave Maria" in charadlers of gold ! 

'fhe Golden Legend 

FEBRUARY EIGHTEENTH 

The night is come, but not too soon ; 

And sinking silently, 
All silently, the little moon 

Drops down behind the sky. 

Within my breast there is no light, 
But the cold light of stars ; 

1 give the first watch of the night 

To the red planet Mars. 

T^he Light of Stars 



FEBRUARY NINETEENTH 

O star of strength ! I see thee stand 

And smile upon my pain j 
Thou beckonest with thy mailed hand, 

And I am strong again. 

[ i6] 



The star of the unconquered will, 

He rises in my breast, 
Serene, and resolute, and still. 

And calm, and self-possessed. 

T^he Light of Stars 

FEBRUARY TWENTIETH 

And thou, too, whosoe'er thou art, 

That readest this brief psalm. 
As one by one thy hopes depart, 

Be resolute and calm. 

O fear not in a world like this. 

And thou shalt know erelong. 
Know how sublime a thing it is 

To suffer and be strong. 

T: he Light of Stan 

FEBRUARY TV/ENTY-FIRST 

The prayer of Ajax was for light ; 
Through all that dark and desperate fight, 
The blackness of that noonday night, 
He asked but the return of sight, 

To see his foeman's face. 

the Goblet of Life 



[ 17 ] 



FEBRUARY TWENTY-SECOND 
Let our unceasing, earnest prayer 
Be, too, for light, — for strength to bear 
Our portion of the weight of care, 
That crushes into dumb despair 
One half the human race. 

rhe Goblet of Life 

FEBRUARY TWENTY-THIRD 

All through life there are way-side inns, where 

man may refresh his soul with love; 

Even the lowest may quench his thirst at rivulets 

fed by springs from above. 

'the Golden Legend 

FEBRUARY TWENTY-FOURTH 

Lord, what am I, that, with unceasing care. 
Thou didst seek after me, — that thou didst wait. 
Wet with unhealthy dews, before my gate, 
And pass the gloomy nights of winter there ? 
O strange delusion ! — that I did not greet 
Thy blest approach, and O, to Heaven how lost, 
If my ingratitude's unkindly frost 
Has chilled the bleeding wounds upon thy feet. 

To-morrovj 



[ i8] 



FEBRUARY TWENTY-FIFTH 

How oft my guardian angel gently cried, 
"Soul, from thy casement look, and thou shalt see 
How he persists to knock and wait for thee ! " 
And, O ! how often to that voice of sorrow, 
"To-morrow we will open," I replied. 
And when the morrow came I answered still, 

" To-morrow." 

To-morroiAj 

FEBRUARY TWENTY-SIXTH 
My Redeemer and my Lord, 
I beseech thee, I entreat thee. 
Guide me in each adl and word, 
That hereafter I may meet thee. 
Watching, waiting, hoping, yearning, 
With my lamp well trimmed and burning ! 

T/ie Golden Legend 

FEBRUARY TWENTY-SEVENTH 

Interceding 

With these bleeding 

Wounds upon thy hands and side, 

For all who have Hved and erred 

Thou hast suffered, thou hast died, 

Scourged, and mocked, and crucified, 

And in the grave hast thou been buried ! 

The Golden Legend 



[ '9 ] 



FEBRUARY TWENTY-EIGHTH 
If my feeble prayer can reach thee, 
O my Saviour, I beseech thee, 
Even as thou hast died for me, 
More sincerely 

Let me foUov/ w^here thou leadest, 
Let me, bleeding as thou bleedest. 
Die, if dying I may give 
Life to one vi^ho asks to live. 
And more nearly. 
Dying thus, resemble thee ! 

The Golden Legend 

FEBRUARY TWENTY-NINTH 

Where, twisted round the barren oak, 
The summer vine in beauty clung. 

And summer winds- the stillness broke. 
The crystal icicle is hung. 

Woods in Winter 



[20] 



MARCH 

MARCH FIRST 

O BLESSED Lord ! how much I need 
Thy light to guide me on my way ! 
So many hands, that, without heed, 
Still touch thy wounds, and make them bleed ! 
So many feet, that, day by day, 
Still wander from thy fold astray ! 
Unless thou fill me with thy light, 
I cannot lead thy flock aright ; 
Nor, without thy support, can bear 
The burden of so great a care. 
But am myself a castaway ! 

The Golden Legend 

MARCH SECOND 

The day is drawing to its close; 

And what good deeds, since first it rose, 

Have I presented. Lord, to thee. 

As offerings of my ministry ? 

What wrong repressed, what right maintained. 

What struggle passed, what vi6lory gained, 

What good attempted and attained ? 

The Golden Legend 



[21 ] 



MARCH THIRD 

Feeble, at best, is my endeavor ! 
I see, but cannot reach, the height 
That lies forever in the light. 
And yet forever and forever, 
When seeming just within my grasp, 
I feel my feeble hands unclasp, 
And sink discouraged into night ! 
For thine own purpose, thou hast sent 
The strife and the discouragement ! 

The Golden Legend 

MARCH FOURTH 

O beauty of holiness. 

Of self-forgetfulness, of lowliness ! 

O power of meekness, 

Whose very gentleness and weakness 

Are like the yielding, but irresistible air. 

Enjangelifie 

MARCH FIFTH 

Feeling is deep and still ; and the word that floats 
on the surface 

Is as the tossing buoy, that betrays where the an- 
chor is hidden. 

Therefore trust to thy heart, and to what the 

world calls illusions. 

E'vangeline 



[^2] 



MARCH SIXTH 

Blessed are the pure before God ! Upon purity and 

upon virtue 
Resteth the Christian Faith. 

'The Children of the Lord's Supper 

MARCH SEVENTH 

I like that ancient Saxon phrase, which calls 
The burial-ground God's-Acre ! It is just ; 
It consecrates each grave within its walls, 

And breathes a benison o'er the sleeping dust. 

GoiTs-Acre 

MARCH EIGHTH 

God's-Acre ! Yes, that blessed name imparts 
Comfort to those, who in the grave have sown 

The seed, that they had garnered in their hearts. 
Their bread of life, alas ! no more their own. 

Gods-Acre 

MARCH NINTH 

Weep not, my friends! rather rejoice with me. 
I shall not feel the pain, but shall be gone, 
And you will have another friend in heaven. 
Then start not at the creaking of the door 
Through which I pass. I see what lies beyond it. 

The Golden Legend 



[23l 



MARCH TENTH 

Above the darksome sea of death 

Looms the great life that is to be, 

A land of cloud and mystery, 

A dim mirage, with shapes of men 

Long dead, and passed beyond our ken. 

Awe-struck we gaze, and hold our breath 

Till the fair pageant vanisheth, 

Leaving us in perplexity, 

And doubtful whether it has been 

A vision of the world unseen, 

Or a bright image of our own 

Against the sky in vapors thrown. 

'The Golden Legend 

MARCH ELEVENTH 

Now if my aft be good, as I believe, 
It cannot be recalled. It is already 
Sealed up in heaven, as a good deed accomplished. 

The Golden Legend 

MARCH TWELFTH 

No aftion, whether foul or fair, 

Is ever done, but it leaves somewhere 

A record, written by fingers ghostly, 

As a blessing or a curse, and mostly 

In the greater weakness or greater strength 

Of the ads which follow it, till at length 

The wrongs of ages are redressed, 

And the justice of God made manifest. 

The Golden Legend 

[ 24] 



MARCH THIRTEENTH 

In ancient records it is stated 

That, whenever an evil deed is done, 

Another devil is created 

To scourge and torment the offending one ! 

But evil is only good perverted, 

And Lucifer, the Bearer of Light, 

But an angel fallen and deserted. 

Thrust from his Father's house vv^ith a curse 

Lito the black and endless ni2:ht. 

"The Golden Legaid 

MARCH FOURTEENTH 
If justice rules the universe, 
From the good adions of good men 
Angels of light should be begotten. 
And thus the balance restored again. 

The Golden Legend 

MARCH FIFTEENTH 

In the w^orld's broad field of battle. 

In the bivouac of Life, 
Be not like dumb, driven cattle; 

Be a hero in the strife I 

A Psalm of Lift 



[25 ] 



MARCH SIXTEENTH 

Pray for the Dead ! 

Why for the dead, who are at rest ? 
Pray for the living, in whose breast 
The struggle between right and wrong 
Is raging terrible and strong. 
As when good angels war with devils ! 

The Golden Legend 

MARCH SEVENTEENTH 

Ah ! if our souls but poise and swing 
Like the compass in its brazen ring, 
Ever level and ever true 
To the toil and the task we have to do, 
We shall sail securely, and safely reach 
The Fortunate Isles, on whose shining beach 
The sights we see, and the sounds we hear. 
Will be those of joy and not of fear ! 

The Building of the Ship 

MARCH EIGHTEENTH 

O precious hours ! O golden prime, 
And affluence of love and time ! 
Even as a miser counts his gold. 
Those hours the ancient timepiece told, — 
"Forever — never ! 
Never — forever !" 

The Old Clock on the Stairs 



[26 1 



MARCH NINETEENTH 
Never here, forever there, 
Where all parting, pain, and care. 
And death, and time shall disappear,— 
Forever there, but never here ! 
The horologe of Eternity 
Sayeth this incessantly, — 

"Forever — never ! 

Never — forever ! " 

The Old Clock on the Stairs 

MARCH TWENTIETH 

I shot an arrovv^ into the air, 
It fell to earth, I knew not where ; 
For, so swiftly it flew, the sight 
Could not follow it in its flight. 

I breathed a song into the air, 
It fell to earth, I knew not where ; 
For who has sight so keen and strong, 
That it can follow the flight of song ? 

7 he Arroiv and the Song 

MARCH TWENTY-FIRST 

Long, long afterward, in an oak 
I found the arrow, still un broke; 
And the song, from beginning to end, 
I found again in the heart of a friend. 

The Arro-w and the Song 



[27] 



MARCH TWENTY-SECOND 

The moon was pallid, but not faint, 

And beautiful as some fair saint, 

Serenely moving on her way 

In hours of trial and dismay. 

As if she heard the voice of God, 

Unharmed with naked feet she trod 

Upon the hot and burning stars, 

As on the glowing coals and bars 

That were to prove her strength, and try 

Her holiness and her purity. 

The Occultation of Orion 

INARCH TWENTY-THIRD 

Instead of whistling to the steeds of Time, 

To make them jog on merrily with life's burden, 

Like a dead weight thou hangest on the wheels. 

Thou art too young, too full of lusty health 

To talk of dying. 

The Spanish Student 

MARCH TWENTY-FOURTH 

Yet I fain would die. 

To go through life, unloving and unloved ; 

To feel that thirst and hunger of the soul 

We cannot still ; that longing, that wild impulse. 

And struggle after something we have not 

And cannot have; the effort to be strong; 

And, like the Spartan boy, to smile, and smile, 

While,secret wounds do bleed beneath our cloaks ; 

All this the dead feel not, — the dead alone! 

Would I were with them ! 

The Spanish Student 



MARCH TWENTY-FIFTH 

You are passionate ; 
And this same passionate humor in your blood 
Has marred your fortune. 

T^he Spanish Student 

MARCH TWENTY-SIXTH 

Yet thou shalt not perish. 
The strength of thine own arm is thy salvation. 
Above thy head, through rifted clouds, there shines 
A glorious star. Be patient. Trust thy star ! 

The Spanish Student 

MARCH TWENTY-SEVENTH 

Tell me not, in mournful numbers, 

"Life is but an empty dream!" 
For the soul is dead that slumbers, 

And things are not w^hat they seem. 

Life is real ! Life is earnest ! 

And the grave is not its goal ; 
"Dust thou art, to dust returnest," 

Was not spoken of the soul. 



APsahnof Life 



MARCH TWENTY-EIGHTH 

Lives of great men all remind us 
We can make our lives sublime, 

And, departing, leave behind us 
Footprints on the sands of time ; 

[29] 



A Psalm of Life 



Footprints, that perhaps another, 

Sailing o'er life's solemn main, 
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother, 

Seeing, shall take heart again. 

MARCH TWENTY-NINTH 

Let us, then, be up and doing, 

With a heart for any fate ; 

Still achieving, still pursuing. 

Learn to labor and to wait. 

A Psalm of Life 

MARCH THIRTIETH 

Gentle Spring ! — in sunshine clad. 

Well dost thou thy power display ! 
For Winter maketh the light heart sad. 

And thou, — thou makest the sad heart gay. 
He sees thee, and calls to his gloomy train. 
The sleet, and the snow, and the wind, and the 

rain; 

And they shrink away, and they flee in fear. 

When thy merry step draws near. 

Spring 

MARCH THIRTY-FIRST 

Did we but use it as we ought. 

This world would school each wandering thought 

To its high state. 
Faith wings the soul beyond the sky, 
Up to that better world on high, 

For which we wait. 

Capias de Manriqta 

[ 30 ] 



APRIL 



APRIL FIRST 

ETERNAL Sun ! the warmth which thou hast 
given, 
To cheer life's flowery April, fast decays ; 
Yet, in the hoary winter of my days, 
Forever green shall be my trust in Heaven. 

'The Image of God 

APRIL SECOND 

Celestial King ! O let thy presence pass 
Before my spirit, and an image fair 

Shall meet that look of mercy from on high, 
As the refledted image in a glass 

Doth meet the look of him who seeks it there. 
And owes its being to the gazer's eye. 

The Image of God 



APRIL THIRD 

And on her lips there played a smile 

As holy, meek, and faint, 

As lights in some cathedral aisle 

The features of a saint. 

The 



Sluadroon Girl 



[31] 



APRIL FOURTH 

I have no other shield than mine own virtue, 
That is the charm w^hich has protected me ! 
Amid a thousand perils, I have v^^orn it 
Here on my heart ! It is my guardian angel. 

T/zt" Spanish Student 

APRIL FIFTH 

Thy virords fall from thy lips 
Like roses from the lips of Angelo : and angels 
Might stoop to pick them up ! 

the Golden Legend 

APRIL SIXTH 

Down sank the great red sun, and in golden, glim- 
mering vapors 

Veiled the light of his face, like the Prophet de- 
scending from Sinai. 

Sweetly over the village the bell of the Angelus 
sounded. 

Over the pallid sea and the silvery mist of the 
meadows. 

Silently one by one, in the infinite meadows of 
heaven. 

Blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of 
the angels. 

Ruangeline 



rsO 



APRIL SEVENTH 

Sleep, sleep, O city ! though within 

The circuit of your walls there lies 
No habitation free from sin. 

And all its nameless miseries ; 
The aching heart, the aching head, 
Grief for the living and the dead, 

And foul corruption of the time, 
Disease, distress, and want, and woe, 
And crimes, and passions that may grow 

Until they ripen into crime ! 



The Golden Legem 



APRIL EIGHTH 

O suffering, sad humanity ! 
O ye afflided ones, who lie 
Steeped to the lips in misery. 
Longing, and yet afraid to die, 
Patient, though sorely tried ! 



The Goblet of Lip 



APRIL NINTH 

This world is but the rugged road 
Which leads us to the bright abode 
Of peace above ; 

So let us choose that narrow way, 
Which leads no traveller's foot astray 
From realms of love. 



Coplas de Manrhim 



[33] 



APRIL TENTH 

Toiling, — rejoicing, — sorrowing. 

Onward through life he goes; 
Each morning sees some task begin, 

Each evening sees it close; 
Something attempted, something done, 

Has earned a night's repose. 

T^he Village Blacksrnith 

APRIL ELEVENTH 

Tlianks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend, 

For the lesson thou hast taught ! 
Thus bit the flaming forge of life 

Our fortunes must be wrought ; 
Thus on its sounding anvil shaped 

Each burning deed and thought ! 

'The Village Blacksmith 

APRIL TWELFTH 

In the furrowed land 

The toilsome and patient oxen stand ; 

Lifting the yoke-encumbered head, 

With their dilated nostrils spread. 

They silently inhale 

The clover-scented gale, 

And the vapors that arise 

From the well-watered and smoking soil. 

For this rest in the furrow after toil 

Their large and lustrous eyes 

Seem to thank the Lord, 

More than man's spoken word. 

« Rain in Summer 

[34] 



APRIL THIRTEENTH 

As a pilgrim to the Holy City 
Walks unmolested, and with thoughts of pardon 
Occupied wholly, so would I approach 
The gates of Heaven, in this great jubilee, 
With my petition, putting off from me 
All thoughts of earth, as shoes from off my feet. 

The Golden Legend 

APRIL FOURTEENTH 

This is the day, when from the dead 
Our Lord arose; and everywhere. 
Out of their darkness and despair. 
Triumphant over fears and foes. 
The hearts of his disciples rose ; 
When to the women, standing near, 
The Angel in shining vesture said, 
"The Lord is risen; he is not here !" 

The Golden Legend 

APRIL FIFTEENTH 

Labor with what zeal we will. 

Something still remains undone, 
Something uncompleted still 

Waits the rising of the sun. 

Waits, and will not go away ; 

Waits, and will not be gainsaid ; 
By the cares of yesterday 

Each to-day is heavier made. 

Something Left Undone 

[35] 



APRIL SIXTEENTH 

O little feet ! that such long years 

Must wander on through hopes and fears, 

Must ache and bleed beneath your load ; 
I, nearer to the wayside inn 
Where toil shall cease and rest begin, 

Am weary, thinking of your road ! 



Weariness 



APRIL SEVENTEENTH 

O little hearts ! that throb and beat 

With such impatient, feverish heat. 

Such limitless and strong desires ; 

Mine that so long has glowed and burned, 

With passions into ashes turned 

Now covers and conceals its fires. 

Weariness 

APRIL EIGHTEENTH 

A hurry of hoofs in a village street, 
A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark. 
And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing, a spark 
Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet ; 
That was all ! And yet, through the gloom and 

the light, 
The fate of a nation was riding that night; 
And the spark struck out by that steed, in his 

flight. 
Kindled the land into flame with its heat. 

Paul Re'vere^s Ride 



[36] 



APRIL NINETEENTH 

Whene'er a noble deed is wrought, 
Whene'er is spoken a noble thought, 

Our hearts, in glad surprise. 

To higher levels rise. 

The tidal wave of deeper souls 
Into our inmost being rolls, 

And lifts us unawares 

Out of all meaner cares. 



Santa Filomena 



APRIL TWENTIETH 

Honor to those whose words or deeds 
Thus help us in our daily needs, 
And by their overflow 
Raise us from what is low ! 



Santa Filomena 



APRIL TWENTY-FIRST 

Come to me, O ye children! 

And whisper in my ear 
What the birds and the winds are singing 

In your sunny atmosphere. 

For what are all our contrivings, 
And the wisdom of our books, 

When compared with your caresses. 
And the gladness of your looks ? 



Children 



[37] 



APRIL TWENTY-SECOND 
O child ! O new-born denizen 
Of life's great city ! on thy head 
The glory of the morn is shed, 
Like a celestial benison ! 
Here at the portal thou dost stand, 
And with thy little hand 
Thou openest the mysterious gate 
Into the future's undiscovered land. 



To a Child 



APRIL TWENTY-THIRD 

Laugh of the mountain ! — lyre of bird and tree ! 

Pomp of the meadow ! mirror of the morn ! 

The soul of April, unto whom are born 
The rose and jessamine, leaps wild in thee ! 

T/ie Brook 

APRIL TWENTY-FOURTH 

How without guile thy bosom, all transparent 

As the pure crystal, lets the curious eye 

Thy secrets scan, thy smooth, round pebbles 

count ! 
How, without malice murmuring, glides thy cur- 
rent ! 

The Brook 



[38] 



APRIL TWENTY-FIFTH 

Beautiful was the night. Behind the black wall of 
the forest, 

Tipping its summit with silver, arose the moon. 
On the river 

Fell here and there through the branches a tre- 
mulous gleam of the moonlight, 

Like the sweet thoughts of love on a darkened and 

devious spirit. 

E'vangeline 

APRIL TWENTY-SIXTH 

When the warm sun, that brings 
Seed-time and harvest, has returned again, 
'T is sweet to visit the still wood, where springs 

The first flower of the plain. 

From the earth's loosened mould 

The sapling draws its sustenance, and thrives; 

Though stricken to the heart with winter's cold, 

The drooping tree revives. 

An April Day 

APRIL TWENTY-SEVENTH 

The softly-warbled song 
Comes from the pleasant woods, and colored wings 
Glance quick in the bright sun, that moves along 
The forest openings. 



I 39] 



Sweet April ! — many a thought 

Is wedded unto thee, as hearts are wed ; 

Nor shall they fail, till, tc its autumn brought,^ 

Life's golden fruit is shed. 

An April Day 

APRIL TWENTY-EIGHTH 

Showers of rain fall warm and welcome, 
Plants lift up their heads rejoicing, 
Back unto their lakes and marshes 
Come the wild goose and the heron. 
Homeward shoots the arrowy swallow, 
Sing the bluebird and the robin, 
And where'er my footsteps wander. 
All the meadows wave with blossoms. 
All the woodlands ring with music. 
All the trees are dark with foliage ! 

T^he Song of Hianxjatha 

APRIL TWENTY-NINTH 

All things above were bright and fair, 

All things were glad and free j 
Lithe squirrels darted here and there, 
And wild birds filled the echoing air 

With songs of Liberty 1 

The Slave in the Dismal Snuamf 



1 40 ] 



APRIL THIRTIETH 

Down goes the sun 

But the soul of one, 

Who by repentance 

Has escaped the dreadful sentence. 

Shines bright below me as I look. 

The Golden Legend 



[41 ] 



MAY 



MAY FIRST 

THE sun is bright, — the air is clear, 
The darting swallows soar and sing, 
And from the stately elms I hear 
The bluebird prophesying Spring. 

So blue yon winding river flows, 

It seems an outlet from the sky, 
Where waiting till the west wind blows. 

The freighted clouds at anchor lie. 

It is not airways May 

MAY SECOND 

All things are new; — the buds, the leaves. 
That gild the elm tree's nodding crest. 

And even the nest beneath the eaves; — 
There are no birds in last year's nest 1 

// is not airways May 

MAY THIRD 

The robin and the bluebird, piping loud. 

Filled all the blossoming orchards with their glee, 
The sparrows chirped as if they still were proud 

Their race in Holy Writ should mentioned be ; 

[43 ] 



And hungry crows assembled in a crowd, 

Clamored their piteous prayer incessantly, 
Knowing who hears the ravens cry, and said : 
"Give us, O Lord, this day our daily bread !" 

T^he Birds of Killing^worth 

MAY FOURTH 

111 fared it with the birds, both great and small ; 
Hardly a friend in all that crowd they found. 
But enemies enough, who every one 
Charged them with all the crimes beneath the sun. 

The Birds of Killingnvorth 

MAY FIFTH 

When they had ended, from his place apart, 

Rose the Preceptor, to redress the wrong, 
And, trembling like a steed before the start, 

Looked round bewildered on the expeftant 

throng. 

The Birds of KiUing<worth 

MAY SIXTH 

You slay them all ! and wherefore ? for the gain 

Of a scant handful more or less of wheat . . . 

Or a few cherries that are not as sweet 

As are the songs these uninvited guests 

Sing at their feast. 

The Birds of Killing--worth 



l44l 



MAY SEVENTH 

Think, every morning when the sun peeps 
through 

The dim, leaf-latticed windows of the grove, 
How jubilant the happy birds renew 

Their old, melodious madrigals of love ! 
And when you think of this, remember too 

'T is always morning somewhere, and above 
The awakening continents, from shore to shore, 
Somewhere the birds are singing evermore. 

The Birds of Killingworth 

MAY EIGHTH 

You call them thieves and pillagers ; but know 

They are the winged wardens of your farms. 
Who from the cornfields drive the insidious foe. 

And from your harvests keep a hundred harms j 
Even the blackest of them all, the crov/, 

Renders good service as your man-at-arms, 
Crushing the beetle in his coat of mail. 
And crying havoc on the slug and snail. 

The Birds of Killingworth 

MAY NINTH 

How can I teach your children gentleness, 

And mercy to the weak, and reverence 
For Life, which, in its weakness or excess, 

Is still a gleam of God's omnipotence, 



[45] 



Or Death, which, seeming darkness, is no less 
The selfsame light, although averted hence, 
When by your laws, your anions, and your speech, 
You contradid: the very things I teach ? 

The Birds of Killing^joorth 

MAY TENTH 

"Let no hand the bird molest," 

Said he solemnly, "nor hurt her!" 
Adding then, by way of jest, 
"Golondrina is my guest, 

'T is the wife of some deserter ! " 

So unharmed and unafraid 

Sat the swallow still and brooded, 
Till the constant cannonade 
Through the walls a breach had made, 

And the siege was thus concluded. 

77/6' Emperor 5 Bird's Nest 

MAY ELEVENTH 

Then the army, elsewhere bent, 

Struck its tents as if disbanding, 
Only not the Emperor's tent, 
For he ordered, ere he went. 

Very curtly, "Leave it standing!" 



[46] 



So it stood there all alone, 

Loosely flapping, torn and tattered, 

Till the brood was fledged and flown, 

Singing o'er those walls of stone 

Which the cannon-shot had shattered. 

'^he Emptor or s Bird's Nest 

MAY TWELFTH 

Childhood is the bough, where slumbered 
Birds and blossoms many-numbered; — 
Age, that bough with snows encumbered. 

Gather, then, each flower that grows, 
When the young heart overflows, 
To embalm that tent of snows. 

Maidenhood 

MAY THIRTEENTH 

From the sky the sun benignant 
Looked upon them through the branches. 
Saying to them, "O my children. 
Love is sunshine, hate is shadow. 
Life is checkered shade and sunshine, 
Rule by love, O Hiawatha! " 

T/ie Song of Hianxiatha 



I 47] 



MAY FOURTEENTH 

From the sky the moon looked at them, 
Filled the lodge with mystic splendors, 
Whispered to them, "O my children, 
Day is restless, night is quiet, 
Man imperious, woman feeble; 
Half is mine, although I follow ; 
Rule by patience. Laughing Water ! " 

'T^he Song of Hiaivatha 

MAY FIFTEENTH 
Now to the sunset 
Again hast thou brought us; 
And, seeing the evening 
Twilight, we bless thee, 
Praise thee, adore thee ! 

Father omnipotent ! 

Son, the Life-giver ! 

Spirit, the Comforter! 

Worthy at all times 

Of worship and wonder ! 

The Golden Legend 

MAY SIXTEENTH 

Have pity, Lord I let penitence 

Atone for disobedience. 

Nor let the fruit of man's offence 

Be endless misery ! 

The Golden Legend 

[48] 



MAY SEVENTEENTH 
And forever and forever, 

As long as the river flows, 
As long as the heart has passions, 
As long as life has woes ; 

The moon and its broken refleftion 
And its shadows shall appear. 

As the symbol of love in heaven, 
And its wavering image here. 



TAe Bridge 



MAY EIGHTEENTH 

It is the sea, it is the sea. 

In all its vague immensity, 

Fading and darkening in the distance ! 

Silent, majestical, and slow. 

The white ships haunt it to and fro. 

T^e Oold^n Legend 

MAY NINETEENTH 

Loud and sudden and near the note of a whippoor- 

will sounded 
Like a flute in the woods j and anon, through the 

neighboring thickets. 
Farther and farther away it floated and dropped 

into silence. 
" Patience ! " whispered the oaks from oracular 

caverns of darkness ; 
And, from the moonlit meadow, a sigh responded, 

"To-morrow !" 

E'vangeline 

l49] 



MAY TWENTIETH 

Therefore, child of mortality, love thou the mer- 
ciful Father; 

Wish what the Holy One wishes, and not from 
fear, but afFe6tion ; 

Fear is the virtue of slaves ; but the heart that lov- 
eth is willing; 

Perfe6l was before God, and perfeft is Love, and 

Love only. 

The Children of the Lord's Supper 

MAY TWENTY-FIRST 

Lovest thou God as thou oughtest, then lovest thou 

likewise thy brethren ; 
One is the sun in heaven, and one, only one, is 

Love also. 
Bears not each human figure the godlike stamp on 

his forehead ? 
Readest thou not in his face thine origin ? Is he not 

sailing 
Lost hke thyself on an ocean unknown, and is he 

not guided 
By the same stars that guide thee ? 

The Children of the Lord's Supper 



f sol 



MAY TWENTY-SECOND 

Why shouldst thou hate then thy brother? 

Hateth he thee, forgive ! For 't is sweet to stam- 
mer one letter 

Of the Eternal's language j — on earth it is called 
Forgiveness ! 

Knovi^est thou Him, who forgave, with the crown 
of thorns round his temples? 

The Children of the Lord's Supper 

MAY TWENTY-THIRD 

Spurn me, and smite me on each cheek ; 
No violence can harm the meek, 
There is no wound Christ cannot heal ! 

The Golden Legend 

MAY TWENTY-FOURTH 

He preached to all men everywhere 
The Gospel of the Golden Rule,- 
The New Commandment given to men, 
Thinking the deed, and not the creed, 
Would help us in our utmost need. 

The Way side. Inn 

MAY TWENTY-FIFTH 

With reverent feet the earth he trod, 
Nor banished nature from his plan, 
But studied still with deep research 
To build the Universal Church, 
Lofty as is the love of God, 
And ample as the wants of man. 

r -| The Wayside Inn 



MAY TWENTY-SIXTH 

How slowly through the lilac-scented air 
Descends the tranquil moon ! Like thistle-down 
The vapory clouds float in the peaceful sky ; 
And sweetly from yon hollow vaults of shade 
The nightingales breathe out their souls in song, 

l^he Spanish Student 

MAY TWENTY-SEVENTH 

Maiden, that read'st this simple rhyme, 

Enjoy thy youth, it will not stay ; 
Enjoy the fragrance of thy prime, 
For O ! it is not always May ! 

Enjoy the Spring of Love and Youth, 
To some good angel leave the rest, 

For Time will teach thee soon the truth, 
There are no birds in last year's nest ! 

Jt is not ahvays May 

MAY TWENTY-EIGHTH 

Clear was the heaven and blue, and May, with her 

cap crowned with roses, 
Stood in her holiday dress in the fields, and the 

wind and the brooklet 
Murmured gladness and peace, God's-peace! with 

lips rosy-tinted 
Whispered the race of the flowers, and merry on 

balancing branches 

Birds were singing their carol, a jubilant hymn to 

the HighesJ". 

T^he Children of the hordes Supper 

1 5?. ] 



MAY TWENTY-NINTH 

He gave us the horses and the carts, 
And the great oxen in the stall, 
The vineyard, and the forest range ! 

The Golden Legend 

MAY THIRTIETH 

Maiden ! Wwh the meek, brown eyes 
In whose orbs a shadow lies 
Like the dusk in evening skies ! 

Thou whose locks outshine the sun, 
Golden tresses, wreathed in one. 
As the braided streamlets run ! 

Standing, with relu6lant feet. 
Where the brook and river meet, 
Womanhood and childhood fleet ! 



Maidenhood 



MAY THIRTY-FIRST 

O, thou child of many prayers I 

Life hath quicksands, — Life hath snares! 

Care and age come unawares ! 

Like the swell of some sweet tune. 
Morning rises into noon. 
May glides onward into June. 



Maidenhood 



[53] 



JUNE 



JUNE FIRST 

IF thou art worn and hard beset 
With sorrows, that thou wouldst forget, 
If thou wouldst read a lesson, that will keep 
Thy heart from fainting and thy soul from sleep, 
Go to the woods and hills ! — No tears 
Dim the sweet look that Nature wears. 

Sunrise on the Hills 

JUNE SECOND 

There is a quiet spirit in these woods. 
That dwells where'er the gentle south wind blows ; 
Where, underneath the white-thorn, in the glade. 
The wild flowers bloom, or, kissing the soft air. 
The leaves above their sunny palms outspread. 

The Spirit of Poetry 

JUNE THIRD 

Therefore, at Pentecost, which brings 

The Spring, clothed like a bride. 
When nestling buds unfold their wings, 
And bishop's-caps have golden rings, 
Musing upon many things, 

I sought the woodlands wide. 



Prelude 



[55] 



JUNE FOURTH 

Spake full well, in language quaint and olden, 

One who dwelleth by the castled Rhine, 
When he called the flowers, so blue and golden, 
Stars, that in earth's firmament do shine. 

Flonjuers 

JUNE FIFTH 

In all places, then, and in all seasons. 

Flowers expand their light and soul-like wings. 

Teaching us, by most persuasive reasons. 
How akin they are to human things. 

And with childlike, credulous afFe6lion 
We behold their tender buds expand ; 

Emblems of our own great resurrection. 
Emblems of the bright and better land. 

FloTvers 

JUNE SIXTH 

gift of God ! O perfedt day : 
Whereon shall no man work, but play ; 
Whereon it is enough for me. 

Not to be doing, but to be ! 

A Day of Sunshine 

JUNE SEVENTH 

Through every fibre of my brain. 
Through every nerve, through every vein, 

1 feel the eleftric thrill, the touch 
Of life, that seems almost too much. 

A Day of Sunshine 

[56] 



JUNE EIGHTH 

I hear the wind among the trees 
Playing celestial symphonies ; 
I see the branches downward bent, 
Like keys of some great instrument. 

And over me unrolls on high 
The splendid scenery of the sky, 
Where through a sapphire sea the sun 

Sails like a golden galleon. 

A Day of Sunshine 

TUNE NINTH ^ 

Bright rose the sun next day ; and all the flowers 

of the garden 
Bathed his shining feet with their tears, and an- 
ointed his tresses 
With the delicious balm that they bore in their 

vases of crystal. 

Enjangeline 

JUNE TENTH 

Pray in fortunate days, for life's most beautiful 

Fortune 
Kneels down before the Eternal's throne ; and, 

with hands interfolded. 
Praises thankful and moved the only giver of 

blessings. 



[57] 



Or do ye know, ye children, one blessing that 

comes not from Heaven ? 
What has mankind forsooth, the poor ! that it has 

not received ? 
Therefore, fall in the dust and pray ! 

'The Children of the LorcTs Supper 

JUNE ELEVENTH 

And he gathers the prayers as he stands, 
And they change into flovi^ers in his hands, 
Into garlands of purple and red ; 
' And beneath the great arch of the portal, 
Through the streets of the City Immortal 
Is wafted the fragrance they shed. 

Sandalphon 

JUNE TWELFTH 

From the spirits on earth that adore, 
From the souls that entreat and implore 

In the fervor and passion of prayer ; 
From the hearts that are broken with losses. 
And weary with dragging the crosses 
Too heavy for mortals to bear. 

Sandalphon 

JUNE THIRTEENTH 

Wondrous truths, and manifold as wondrous, 

God hath written in those stars above; 

But not less in the bright flowerets under us 

Stands the revelation of his love. 

tUnuers 

1 58] 



JUNE FOURTEENTH 

Beneath some patriarchal tree 

I lay upon the ground ; 
His hoary arms uplifted he, 
And all the broad leaves over me 
Clapped their little hands in glee, 
With one continuous sound. 



JUNE FIFTEENTH 

And dreams of that v^rhich cannot die, 

Bright visions, came to me, 
As lapped in thought I used to lie, 
And gaze into the summer sky. 
Where the sailing clouds went by, 
Like ships upon the sea. 



Prelude 



Prelude 



JUNE SIXTEENTH 

O Life and Love ! O happy throng 
Of thoughts, whose only speech is song ! 
O heart of man ! canst thou not be 
Blithe as the air is, and as free ? 

A Day of Sunshine 

JUNE SEVENTEENTH 

As pleasant songs, at morning sung. 
The words that dropped from his sweet tongue 
Strengthened our hearts ; or, heard at night, 
Made all our slumbers soft and light. 

The Golden Legend 

[59 J 



JUNE EIGHTEENTH 

A man of such a genial mood 

The heart of all things he embraced, 
And yet of such fastidious taste, 

He never found the best too good. 

The Wayside Inn 

JUNE NINETEENTH 

The green trees whispered low and mild, 

It was a sound of joy ! 
They were my playmates when a child, 
And rocked me in their arms so wild ! 
Still they looked at me and smiled, 

As if I were a boy. 



Prelude 



JUNE TWENTIETH 

And, falling on my weary brain. 

Like a fast-falling shower, 
The dreams of youth came back again, 
Low lispings of the summer rain. 
Dropping on the ripened grain. 

As once upon the flower. 



Prelude 



JUNE TWENTY-FIRST 

In this false world, we do not always know 
Who are our friends and who our enemies. 
We all have enemies, and all need friends. 

The Spanish Student 

[60] 



JUNE TWENTY-SECOND 

Honor and blessings on his head 
While living, good report when dead, 
Who, not too eager for renown. 
Accepts, but does not clutch, the crown ! 

The Wayside Inn 

JUNE TWENTY-THIRD 

Something there was in her life incomplete, im- 
perfect, unfinished ; 
As if a morning of June, with all its music and 

sunshine. 
Suddenly paused in the sky, and, fading, slowly 

descended 
Into the east again, from whence it late had arisen. 

E'vangeline 

JUNE TWENTY-FOURTH 

All was ended now, the hope, and the fear, and 

the sorrow, 
All the aching of heart, the restless, unsatisfied 

longing. 
All the dull, deep pain, and constant anguish of 

patience ! 
And, as she pressed once more the lifeless head to 

her bosom. 

Meekly she bowed her own, and murmured, 

"Father, I thank thee!" 

E'vangeline 



[6i] 



JUNE TWENTY-FIFTH 

Still stands the forest primeval ; but far away from 

its shadow, 
Side by side, in their nameless graves, the lovers 

are sleeping. 
Under the humble walls of the little Catholic 

church-yard. 
In the heart of the city, they lie, unknown and 

unnoticed. 
Daily the tides of life go ebbing and flowing beside 

them. 
Thousands of throbbing hearts, where theirs are 

at rest and forever, 
Thousands of aching brains, where theirs no longer 

are busy. 
Thousands of toiling hands, where theirs have 

ceased from their labors, 
Thousands of weary feet, where theirs have com- 
pleted their journey ! 

E'vangeline 

> 
JUNE TWENTY-SIXTH 

Alas ! we are but eddies of dust. 
Uplifted by the blast, and whirled 
Along the highway of the world 
A moment only, then to fall 
Back to a common level all. 
At the subsiding of the gust ! 

The Spanish Student 



[62] 



Yet why should I fear death ! What is it to die ? 

To leave all disappointment, care, and sorrow. 

To leave all falsehood, treachery, and unkindness, 

All ignominy, suffering, and despair, 

And be at rest forever ! O dull heart. 

Be of good cheer ! When thou shalt cease to beat, 

Then shalt thou cease to suffer and complain ! 

'The Spanish Student 

JUNE TWENTY-SEVENTH 

"Blessed be God ! for he created Death !" 

The mourners said, "and Death is rest and 
peace;" 
Then added, in the certainty of faith, 

"And giveth Life that nevermore shall cease." 
The Je'wish Cemetery at NeiJuport 

JUNE TWENTY-EIGHTH 

The thought of my short-comings in this life 
Falls like a shadow on the life to come. 

The Golden Legend 

TUNE TWENTY-NINTH 

Man-like is it to fall into sin, 

Fiend-like is it to dwell therein, 

Christ-like is it for sin to grieve, 

God-like is it all sin to leave. 

Poetic Aphorisms 

JUNE THIRTIETH 

Intelligence and courtesy not always are combined ; 
Often in a wooden house a golden room we find. 

Poetic Aphorisms 

(63] 



JULY 



JULY FIRST 

UNDER him lay the golden moss ; 
And above him the boughs of hemlock-trees 
Waved, and made the sign of the cross, 
And whispered their Benedicites; 
And from the ground 
Rose an odor svi^eet and fragrant 
Of the w^ild-flovi^ers and the vagrant 
Vines that wandered. 
Seeking the sunshine, round and round. 

T^he Golden Legend 

JULY SECOND 

And this is the sweet spirit, that doth fill 

The world ; and, in these wayward days of youth, 

My busy fancy oft embodies it, 

As a bright image of the light and beauty 

That dwell in nature, — of the heavenly forms 

We worship in our dreams, and the soft hues 

That stain the wild bird's wing, and flush the 

clouds 

When the sun sets. 

the Spirit of Poetry 



[65 1 



JULY THIRD 

Why then are you not contented ? 
Why then will you hunt each other? 

I am weary of your quarrels, 
Weary of your wars and bloodshed, 
Weary of your prayers for vengeance, 
Of your wranglings and dissensions ; 
All your strength is in your union. 
All your danger is in discord ; 
Therefore be at peace henceforward. 
And as brothers live together. 

the Song of Hiawatha 

yULY FOURTH 

Is it, O man, with such discordant noises. 

With such accursed instruments as these. 
Thou drownest Nature's sweet and kindly voices, 
And jarrest the celestial harmonies ? 

the Arsenal at Spr big field 

JULY FIFTH 

Down the dark future, through long generations. 
The echoing sounds grow fainter and then 
cease ; 
And like a bell, with solemn, sweet vibrations, 
I hear once more the voice of Christ say, 
"Peace!" 

the Arsenal at Springfield 



[66 1 



JULY SIXTH 

Peace ! and no longer from its brazen portals 

The blast of War's great organ shakes the skies ! 
But beautiful as songs of the immortals, 
The holy melodies of love arise. 

the Arsetial at Springfield 

JULY SEVENTH 

The Parson, too, appeared, a man austere, 
The instind of whose nature was to kill; 
The wrath of God he preached from year to year, 
And read, with fervor, Edwards on the Will ; 
His favorite pastime was to slay the deer 

In Summer on some Adirondac hill ; 
E'en now, while walking down the rural lane. 
He lopped the wayside lilies with his cane. 

The Birds of Killingnjuorth 
JULY EIGHTH 

The Summer came, and all the birds were dead; 
The days were like hot coals; the very ground 
Was burned to ashes ; in the orchards fed 

Myriads of caterpillars, and around 
The cultivated fields and garden beds 

Hosts of devouring inseds crawled, and found 
No foe to check their march, till they had made 
The land a desert without leaf or shade. 

The Birds of Killingnvorth 



I 67 ] 



JULY NINTH 

The farmers grew impatient, but a few 

Confessed their error, and would not complain, 

(For after all the best thing one can do 
When it is raining is to let it rain.) 

Then they repealed the law although they knew 
It would not call the dead to life again. 

'The Birds of Killing^worth 

JULY TENTH 

Then the little Hiawatha 
Learned of every bird its language, 
Learned their names and all their secrets, 
How they built their nests in Summer, 
Where they hid themselves in Winter, 
Talked with them whene'er he met them, 
Called them " Hiawatha's Chickens." 

Of all beasts he learned the language. 
Learned their names and all their secrets, 
How the beavers built their lodges. 
Where the squirrels hid their acorns, 
How the reindeer ran so swiftly, 
Why the rabbit was so timid. 
Talked with them whene'er he met them. 
Called them " Hiawatha's Brothers." 

'The Song of Hiaivatha 



[68 1 



JULY ELEVENTH 

Forth into the forest straightway- 
All alone walked Hiawatha 
Proudly, with his bow and arrows ; 
And the birds sang round him, o'er him, 
"Do not shoot us, Hiawatha!'* 
Sang the robin, the Opechee, 
Sang the bluebird, the Owaissa, 
"Do not shoot us, Hiawatha!" 

The Song of Hia<watha 

JULY TWELFTH 

When Christ ascended 
Triumphantly, from star to star, 
He left the gates of heaven ajar. 
I had a vision in the night. 
And saw him standing at the door 
Of his Father's mansion, vast and splendid, 
And beckoning to me from afar. 

T'/ie Golden Legend 

JULY THIRTEENTH 

As unto the bow the cord is, 
So unto the man is woman : 
Though she bends him, she obeys him. 
Though she draws him, yet she follows, 
Useless each without the other ! 

T'/ie Song of Hiawatha 



[69] 



JULY FOURTEENTH 

Sail forth into the sea of life, 
O gentle, loving, trusting wife, 
And safe from all adversity 
Upon the bosom of that sea 
Thy comings and thy goings be ! 
For gentleness and love and trust 
Prevail o'er angry wave and gust ; 
And in the wreck of noble lives 
Something immortal still survives ! 

The Building of the Ship 

JULY FIFTEENTH 

Like unto ships far off at sea, 

Outward or homeward bound, are we. 

Before, behind, and all around, 

Floats and swings the horizon's bound, 

Seems at its distant rim to rise 

And climb the crystal wall of the skies, 

And then again to turn and sink. 

As if we could slide from its outer brink. 

Ah ! it is not the sea, 

It is not the sea that sinks and shelves, 

But ourselves 

That rock and rise 

With endless and uneasy motion, 

Now touching the very skies. 

Now sinking into the depths of ocean. 

The Building ofthfi Ship 



[70] 



JULY SIXTEENTH 

For the strufture that we raise, 

Time is with materials filled ; 
Our todays and yesterdays 

Are the blocks with which we build. 

Truly shape and fashion these; 

Leave no yawning gaps between ; 
Think not, because no man sees, 

Such things will remain unseen. 



The Builders 



JULY SEVENTEENTH 
In the elder days of Art, 

Builders wrought with greatest care 
Each minute and unseen part ; 

For the Gods see everywhere. 

Let us do our work as well, 

Both the unseen and the seen ; 
Make the house, where Gods may dwell. 



Beautiful, entire, and clean. 



The Builders 



JULY EIGHTEENTH 

The day is done; and slowly from the scene 
The stooping sun upgathers his spent shafts, 
And puts them back into his golden quiver ! 
Below me in the valley, deep and green 
As goblets are, from which in thirsty draughts 



[ 71 1 



We drink its wine, the swift and mantling river 
Flows on triumphant through these lovely regions, 
Etched with the shadows of its sombre margent, 
And soft, reflefted clouds of gold and argent! 

The Golden Legend 

JULY NINETEENTH 

How beautiful it is ! Fresh fields of wheat, 
Vineyard, and town, and tower v/ith fluttering 

flag, 
The consecrated chapel on the crag, 
And the white hamlet gathered round its base, 
Like Mary sitting at her Saviour's feet, 
And looking up at his beloved face ! 
O friend ! O best of friends ! Thy absence more 
Than the impending night darkens the landscape 

o'er! 

'T/ie Golden Legend 

JULY TWENTIETH 

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, 

Is our destined end or way ; 
But to a6l, that each to-morrow 

Find us farther than to-day. 

Art is long, and Time is fleeting. 

And our hearts, though stout and brave, 

Still, like muflled drums, are beating 
Funeral marches to the grave. 

AFsalmofLtft 



Kn\ 



JULY TWENTY-FIRST 

The evening air grows dusk and brown; 

I must go forth into the town, 

To visit beds of pain and death, 

Of restless hmbs, and quivering breath, 

And sorrowing hearts, and patient eyes 

That see, through tears, the sun go down, 

But nevermore shall see it rise. 

The poor in body and estate, 

The sick and the disconsolate. 

Must not on man's convenience wait. 

The Golden Legend 

fULY TWENTY-SECOND 

Never stoops the soaring vulture 

On his quarry in the desert. 

On the sick or wounded bison. 

But another vulture, watching 

From his high aerial look-out, 

Sees the downward plunge, and follows ; 

And a third pursues the second. 

Coming from the invisible ether, 

First a speck, and then a vulture, 

Till the air is dark with pinions. 

The Song of Hianvatha 



[73] 



JULY TWENTY-THIRD 

So disasters come not singly ; 
But as if they watched and waited, 
Scanning one another's motions, 
When the first descends, the others 
Follow, follow, gathering flock-wise 
Round their viftim, sick and wounded, 
First a shadow, then a sorrow. 
Till the air is dark with anguish. 

The Song of Hiaruoatha 

JULY TWENTY-FOURTH 

Let us be patient ! These severe afHiftions 

Not from the ground arise. 

But oftentimes celestial benedidlions 

Assume, this dark disguise. 

Resignation 

JULY TWENTY-FIFTH 

We see but dimly through the mists and vapors ; 

Amid these earthly damps, 

What seem to us but sad, funereal tapers 

May be heaven's distant lamps. 

Resignation 

JULY TWENTY-SIXTH 

We have no title-deeds to house or lands; 

Owners and occupants of earlier dates 
From graves forgotten stretch their dusty hands. 
And hold in mortmain still their old estates. 

Haunted Houses 

[74] 



JULY TWENTY-SEVENTH 

We meet them at the doorway, on the stair, 

Along the passages they come and go, 
Impalpable impressions on the air, 

A sense of something moving to and fro. 

The stranger at my fireside cannot see 

The forms I see, nor hear the sounds I hear; 

He but perceives u^hat is ; while unto me 
All that has been is visible and clear. 

Haunted Houses 

JULY TWENTY-EIGHTH 

They come, the shapes of joy and woe, 

The airy crowds of long ago, 

The dreams and fancies known of yore, 

That have been, and shall be no more. 

They change the cloisters of the night 

Into a garden of delight; 

They make the dark and dreary hours 

Open and blossom into flowers ! 

The Golden Legend 

JULY TWENTY-NINTH 

Alas ! our memories may retrace 
Each circumstance of time and place. 
Season and scene come back again. 
And outward things unchanged remain ; 



I 7S J 



The rest we cannot reinstate; 

Ourselves we cannot re-create, 

Nor set our souls to the same key 

Of the remembered harmony ! 

'the Golden Legend 

JULY THIRTIETH 

Air, — I want air, and sunshine, and blue sky. 
The feeling of the breeze upon my face. 
The feeling of the turf beneath my feet. 
And no walls but the far-off mountain tops. 
Then I am free and strong, — once more myself. 

The Spanish Student 

JULY THIRTY-FIRST 

How canst thou walk in these streets, who hast 
trod the green turf of the prairies? 

How canst thou breathe in this air, who hast 
breathed the sweet air of the mountains? 

To the Driving Cloud 



[76] 



AUGUST 

AUGUST FIRST 

TO One alone my thoughts arise, 
The Eternal Truth, — the Good and Wise, — 
To Him I cry. 

Who shared on earth our common lot, 
But the world comprehended not 
His deity. 

Coplas de Maiirique 

AUGUST SECOND 

Lo ! where the crucified Christ from his cross is 

gazing upon you ! 
See ! in those sorrowful eyes what meekness and 

holy compassion ! 
Hark! how those lips still repeat the prayer, "O 

Father, forgive them!" 
Let us repeat that prayer in the hour when the 

wicked assail us. 
Let us repeat it now, and say, "O Father, forgive 

them!" 

'the Children of the Lord'^s Supper 



I 77] 



AUGUST THIRD 

Paul and Silas, in their prison, 
Sang of Christ, the Lord arisen. 
And an earthquake's arm of might 
Broke their dungeon-gates at night. 

But, alas ! what holy angel 
Brings the Slave this glad evangel ? 
And w^hat earthquake's arm of might 
Breaks his dungeon-gates at night? 

T^he Slwve Singing at Midnight 

AUGUST FOURTH 

The dawn is not distant, 
Nor is the night starless ; 
Love is eternal ! 
God is still God, and 
His faith shall not fail us; 

Christ is eternal ! 

The Saga of King Ola J 

AUGUST FIFTH 

Nothing useless is, or low; 

Each thing in its place is best; 
And what seems but idle show 
Strengthens and supports the rest. 

The Builders 



f 78 1 



AUGUST SIXTH 

Though the mills of God grind slowly, yet they 

grind exceeding small, 
Though with patience he stands waiting, with 

exadness grinds he all. 

Poetic Aphorisms 

AUGUST SEVENTH 

What I most prize \\\ woman 
Is her afFeftions, not her intelled ! 
The intelledt is finite; but the afFedions 
Are infinite, and cannot be exhausted. 

'the Spanish Student 

AUGUST EIGHTH 

But if thou lovest, — mark me ! I say lovest. 
The greatest of thy sex excels thee not ! 
The world of the aftedions is thy world, 
Not that of man's ambition. In that stillness 
Which most becomes a woman, calm and holy. 
Thou sittest by the fireside of the heart. 
Feeding its flame. 

the Spanish Student 

AUGUST NINTH 

Yes, Love is ever busy with his shuttle. 
Is ever weaving into life's dull warp 
Bright, gorgeous flowers and scenes Arcadian ; 
Hanging our gloomy prison-house about 
With tapestries, that make its walls dilate 
In never ending vistas of delight. 

the Spanish Student 

I 79 i 



AUGUST TENTH 

Disenchantment ! Disillusion ! 
Must each noble aspiration 
Come at last to this conclusion, 
Jarring discord, wild confusion, 
Lassitude, renunciation? 



Epimetheus 



AUGUST ELEVENTH 

Why seek to know ? 

Enjoy the merry shrove-tide of thy youth! 

Take each fair mask for what it gives itself. 

Nor strive to look beneath it, 

'The Spanish Student 

AUGUST TWELFTH 

Good night ! Good night, beloved ! 

I come to watch o'er thee ! 
To be near thee, — to be near thee, 
Alone is peace for me. 

Thine eyes are stars of morning. 

Thy lips are crimson flowers ! 
Good night ! Good night, beloved, 

While I count the weary hours. 

The Spanish Student 



rso] 



AUGUST THIRTEENTH 

And when the eve is born, 
In the blue lake the sky, o'er-reaching far, 
Is hollowed out, and the moon dips her horn, 
And twinkles many a star, m 

An April Day 

AUGUST FOURTEENTH 

'Tis the heaven of flowers you see there; 

All the wild-flowers of the forest, 

All the lilies of the prairie, 

When on earth they fade and perish. 

Blossom in that heaven above us. 

The Song of Hiatjoatha 

AUGUST FIFTEENTH 

Yet in thy heart what human sympathies, 
What soft compassion glows, as in the skies 
The tender stars their clouded lamps relume ! 

Dante 

AUGUST SIXTEENTH 

Long was the good man's sermon, 

Yet it seemed not so to me ; 
For he spake of Ruth the beautiful. 

And still I thought of thee. 

Long was the prayer he uttered. 

Yet it seemed not so to me ; 
For in my heart I prayed with him, 

And still I thought of thee. 

A Glearn of Sunshine 

[8i ] 



AUGUST SEVENTEENTH 
Come to me, O ye children ! 

For I hear you at your play, 
And the questions that perplexed me 

Have vanished quite away. 

Ye open the eastern w^indow^s, 
That look tow^ards the sun, 

Where thoughts are singing swallows, 
And the brooks of morning run. 



Children 



AUGUST EIGHTEENTH 

What the leaves are to the forest, 

With light and air for food, 
Ere their sweet and tender juices 
Have been hardened into wood,- 

That to the world are children; 

Through them it feels the glovtr 
Of a brighter and sunnier climate 

Than reaches the trunks below. 



Children 



AUGUST NINETEENTH 

The day is done, and the darkness 
Falls from the wings of Night, 
As a feather is wafted downward 
From an eagle in his flight. 



The Day is Done 



[82] 



AUGUST TWENTIETH 

I see the lights of the village 

Gleam through the rain and the mist, 
And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me, 
That my soul cannot resist : 

A feeling of sadness and longing, 

That is not akin to pain, 
And resembles sorrow only 

As the mist resembles the rain. 

The Day is Done 

AUGUST TWENTF-FIRST 

Then read from the treasured volume 

The poem of thy choice, 
And lend to the rhyme of the poet 
The beauty of thy voice. 

The Day is Done 

AUGUST TWENTY-SECOND 

Ye whose hearts are fresh and simple, 

Who have faith in God and Nature, 

Who believe, that in all ages 

Every human heart is human. 

That \n even savage bosoms 

There are longings, yearnings, strivings 

For the good they comprehend not. 

That the feeble hands and helpless 

Groping blindly in the darkness, 

Touch God's right hand \n that darkness 

And are lifted up and strengthened j 

[83] 



Listen to this simple story, 
To this Song of Hiawatha! 



T^he Song of Hianvatha 



AUGUST TWENTY-THIRD 
There he sang of Hiawatha, 
Sang the Song of Hiawatha, 
Sang his wondrous birth and being. 
How he prayed and how he fasted. 
How he Hved, and toiled, and suffered. 
That the tribes of men might prosper, 
That he might advance his people ! 

The Sojig of H'la-watha 

AUGUST TWENTY-FOURTH 

Hast thou e'er reflected 
How much lies hidden in that one word, now? 
Yes ; all the awful mystery of Life ! 

The Spanish Student 

AUGUST TWENTY-FIFTH 

But that one deed of charity I '11 do. 
Befall what may ; they cannot take that from me. 

The Spanish Student 

AUGUST TWENTY-SIXTH 

Go, sin no more ! Thy penance o'er, 
A new and better life begin ! 
God maketh thee forever free 
From the dominion of thy sin ! 

[84I 



Go, sin no more ! He will restore 

The peace that filled thy heart before, 

And pardon thine iniquity ! 

the Golden Legend 

AUGUST TWENTY-SEVENTH 

I stand without here in the porch, 

I hear the bell's melodious din, 

I hear the organ peal within, 

I hear the prayer, with words that scorch 

Like sparks from an inverted torch, 

I hear the sermon upon sin. 

With threatenings of the last account. 

And all, translated in the air. 

Reach me but as our dear Lord's Prayer, 

And as the Sermon on the Mount. 

Interlude 



AUGUST TWENTY-EIGHTH 

The reign of violence is o'er 
Or dying surely from the world ; 
While Love triumphant reigns instead, 
And in a brighter sky o'erhead 
His blessed banners are unfurled. 
And most of all thank God for this: 
The war and waste of clashing creeds 
Now end in words, and not in deeds. 
And no one suffers loss, or bleeds. 
For thoughts that men call heresies. 



Interlude 



r 85 ] 



AUGUST TWENTY-NINTH 

And he rushed into the wigwam, 
Saw the old Nokomis slowly- 
Rocking to and fro and moaning, 
Saw his lovely Minnehaha 
Lying dead and cold before him, 
And his bursting heart within him 
Uttered such a cry of anguish, 
That the forest moaned and shuddered. 
That the very stars in heaven 
Shook and trembled with his anguish. 

T^he Song of Hiawatha 

AUGUST THIRTIETH 

"Farewell !" said he, "Minnehaha! 
Farewell, O my Laughing Water ! 
All my heart is buried with you, 
All my thoughts go onward with you ! 
Come not back again to labor. 
Come not back again to suffer. 
Where the Famine and the Fever 
Wear the heart and waste the body. 
Soon my task will be completed, 
Soon your footsteps I shall follow 
To the Islands of the Blessed, 
To the Kingdom of Ponemah, 
To the Land of the Hereafter ! " 

The Song of Hiaivatha 



[ 86 1 



AUGUST THIRTY-FIRST 

And the evening sun descending 

Set the clouds on fire with redness, 

Burned the broad sky, like a prairie, 
, Left upon the level w^ater 

One long track and trail of splendor, 

Down whose stream, as down a river, 

Westward, westward Hiawatha 

Sailed into the fiery sunset, 

Sailed into the purple vapors, 

Sailed into the dusk of evening. 

The Song of Hiaivatha 



187 J 



SEPTEMBER 



SEPTEMBER FIRST 



I 



N the Old Colony days, in Plymouth the land 



of the Pilgrims, 



To and fro in a room of his simple and primitive 
dwelling, 

Clad in doublet and hose, and boots of Cordovan 
leather. 

Strode, with a martial air. Miles Standish the Puri- 
tan Captain. 

Short of stature he was, but strongly built and 
athletic. 

Broad in the shoulders, deep-chested, with mus- 
cles and sinews of iron ; 

Brown as a nut was his face, but his russet beard 
was already 

Flaked with patches of snow, as hedges sometimes 
in November. 

T'/ie Courtship of Miles Standish 

SEPTEMBER SECOND 

Go to the damsel Priscilla, the loveliest maiden of 

Plymouth, 
Say that a blunt old Captain, a man not of words 

but of a6lions, 
Offers his hand and his heart, the hand and heart 

of a soldier. 

[89 J 



Not in these words, you know, but this in short 

is my meaning ; 
I am a maker of war, and not a maker of phrases. 

The Courtship of Miles Standish 

SEPTEMBER THIRD 

When he had spoken, John Alden, the fair-haired 
taciturn stripHng, 

All aghast at his words, surprised, embarrassed, 
bewildered. 

Trying to mask his dismay by treating the subjeft 
with lightness, 

Trying to smile, and yet feeling his heart stand 
still in his bosom, 

Just as a timepiece stops in a house that is stricken 
by lightning, 

Thus made answer and spake, or rather stam- 
mered than answered : 

" Such a message as that I am sure I should man- 
gle and mar it ; 

If you^would have it well done, — I am only re- 
peating your maxim, — 

You must do it yourself, you must not leave it to 

others ! " 

The Courtship of Miles Standish 

SEPTEMBER FOURTH 

Gravely shaking his head, made answer the Cap- 
tain of Plymouth : 

"Truly the maxim is good, and I do not mean to 
gainsay it ; 

[90] 



But we must use it discreetly, and not waste pow- 
der for nothing. 

Now, as I said before, I was never a maker of 
phrases. 

I can march up to a fortress and summon the 
place to surrender, 

But march up to a woman with such a proposal, 
I dare not. 

I 'm not afraid of bullets, nor shot from the mouth 

of a cannon, 
But of a thundering *No!' point-blank from the 

mouth of a woman. 
That I confess I 'm afraid of, nor am I ashamed 

to confess it !" 

The Courtship of Miles Standish 

SEPTEMBER FIFTH 

So the strong will prevailed, and Alden went on 
his errand. 

Out of the street of the village, and into the paths 
of the forest. 

Into the tranquil woods, where bluebirds and robins 
were building 

Towns in the populous trees, with hanging gar- 
dens of verdure. 

Peaceful, aerial cities of joy and afFedion and free- 
dom. 

the Courtship of Miles Standish 



[91 ] 



SEPTEMBER SIXTH 

All around him was calm, but within him com- 
motion and confli6l, 

Love contending with friendship, and self with 
each generous impulse. 

To and fro in his breast his thoughts were heav- 
ing and dashing. 

As in a foundering ship, with every roll of the 
vessel, 

Washes the bitter sea, the merciless surge of the 
ocean ! 

"Must I relinquish it all," he cried with a wild 
lamentation, 

"Must I rehnquish it all, the joy, the hope, the 
illusion ? 

Was it for this I have loved, and waited, and wor- 
shipped in silence? 

Was it for this I have followed the flying feet and 
the shadow 

Over the wintry sea, to the desolate shores of New 

England?" 

The Courtship of Miles Standish 



■to' 



SEPTEMBER SEVENTH 

So through the Plymouth woods John Alden went 
on his errand ; 

Crossing the brook at the ford, where it brawled 
over pebble and shallow. 

Gathering still, as he went, the Mayflowers bloom- 
ing around him, 

[92] 



Fragrant, filling the air with a strange and won- 
derful sweetness, 

Children lost in the woods, and covered with leaves 
in their slumber. 

"Puritan flowers," he said, "and the type of Puri- 
tan maidens. 

Modest and simple and sweet, the very type of 
Priscilla ! 

So I will take them to her ; to Priscilla the May- 
flower of Plymouth, 

Modest and simple and sweet, as a parting gift will 

I take them." 

l^he Courtship of Miles Standish 

SEPTEMBER EIGHTH 

Still he said to himself, and almost fiercely he 

said it, 
"Let not him that putteth his hand to the plough 

look backwards; 
Though the ploughshare cut through the flowers 

of life to its fountains. 
Though it pass o'er the graves of the dead and the 

hearts of the living, 
It is the will of the Lord ; and his mercy endur- 

eth forever!" 

T:he Courtship of Miles Standish 

SEPTEMBER NINTH 

But as he warmed and glowed, in his simple and 

eloquent language. 
Quite forgetful of self, and full of the praise of his 
rival, 

[ 93 j 



Archly the maiden smiled, and, with eyes over- 
running with laughter, 

Said, in a tremulous voice, "Why don't you speak 
for yourself, John ? " 

The Courtship of Miles Standish 

SEPTEMBER TENTH 

That is the way with you men ; you don't under- 
stand us, you cannot. 

When you have made up your minds, after think- 
ing of this one and that one. 

Choosing, selecting, rejecting, comparing one with 
another, 

The« you make known your desire, with abrupt 
and sudden avowal, 

And are offended and hurt, and indignant perhaps, 
that a woman 

Does not respond at once to a love that she never 
suspedled, 

Does not attain at a bound the height to which 
you have been climbing. 

This is not right nor just : for surely a woman's 
afFeftion 

Is not a thing to be asked for, and had for only the 

asking. 

The Courtship of Miles Standish 

SEPTEMBER ELEVENTH 

For there are moments in life, when the heart is 

so full of emotion, 
That if by chance it be shaken, or into its depths 

like a pebble 

[94] 



Drops some careless word, it overflows, and its 
secret. 

Spilt on the ground like water, can never he gath- 
ered together. 

T^he Courtship of Miles Standish 

SEPTEMBER TWELFTH 

Merrily sang the birds, and the tender voices of 
women 

Consecrated with hymns the common cares of the 
household. 

Out of the sea rose the sun, and the billows re- 
joiced at his coming ; 

Beautiful were his feet on the purple tops of the 
mountains ; 

Beautiful on the sails of the Mayflower riding at 
anchor. 

Battered and blackened and worn by all the storms 
of the winter. 

Loosely against her masts was hanging and flap- 
ping her canvas. 

Rent by so many gales, and patched by the hands 

of the sailors. 

The Courtship of Miles Standish 

SEPTEMBER THIRTEENTH 

There with his boat was the Master, already a lit- 
tle impatient 
Lest he should lose the tide, or the wind might 
shift to the eastward, 

[95] 



Square-built, hearty, and strong, with an odor of 

ocean about him. 
Speaking with this one and that, and cramming 

letters and parcels 
Into his pockets capacious, and messages mingled 

together 
Into his narrow brain, till at last he was wholly 

bewildered. 

"The Courtship of Miles Standish 

SEPTEMBER FOURTEENTH 

Nearer the boat stood Alden, with one foot placed 

on the gunwale, 
One still firm on the rock, and talking at times 

with the sailors, 
Seated ere(5l on the thwarts, all ready and eager 

for starting. 
He too was eager to go, and thus put an end to 

his anguish. 
Thinking to fly from despair, that swifter than 

keel is or canvas. 
Thinking to drown in the sea the ghost that 

would rise and pursue him. 

T^he Courtship of Miles Standish 

SEPTEMBER FIFTEENTH 

But as he gazed on the crowd, he beheld the form 

of Priscilla 
Standing dejefted among them, unconscious of all 

that was passing. 

[ 96 ] 



Fixed were her eyes upon his, as if she divined his 
intention, 

Fixed with a look so sad, so reproachful, implor- 
ing, and patient. 

That with a sudden revulsion his heart recoiled 
from its purpose. 

As from the verge of a crag, where one step more 
is destruction. 

Strange is the heart of man, with its quick, mys- 
terious instinds ! 

Strange is the life of man, and fatal or fated are 
moments. 

Whereupon turn, as on hinges, the gates of the 
wall adamantine ! 

The Courtship of Miles Standish 

SEPTEMBER SIXTEENTH 

"There is no land so sacred, no air so pure and so 

wholesome. 
As is the air she breathes, and the soil that is pressed 

by her footsteps. 
Here for her sake will I stay, and like an invisible 

presence 
Hover around her forever, protecting, supporting 

her weakness; 
Yes ! as my foot was the first that stepped on this 

rock at the landing, 
So, with the blessing of God, shall it be the last 

at the leaving ! " 

the Courtship of Miles Standish 

[97] 



SEPTEMBER SEVENTEENTH 

Lost in the sound of the oars was the last farewell 

of the Pilgrims. 
O strong hearts and true! not one went back in 

the Mayflower! 

No, not one looked back, who had set his hand to 

this ploughing! 

The Courtship of Miles Standish 

SEPTEMBER EIGHTEENTH 

God had sifted three kingdoms to find the wheat 

for this planting. 
Then had sifted the wheat, as the living seed of a 

nation ; 
So say the chronicles old, and such is the faith of 

the people! 

The Courtship oj^ Miles Standish 

SEPTEMBER NINETEENTH 

Forth from the curtain of clouds, from the tent 
of purple and scarlet. 

Issued the sun, the great High-Priest, in his gar- 
ments resplendent. 

Holiness unto the Lord, in letters of light, on his 
forehead. 

Round the hem of his robe the golden bells and 
pomegranates. 

Blessing the world he came, and the bars of vapor 
beneath him 

Gleamed like a grate of brass, and the sea at his 

feet was a laver ! 

The Courtship of Miles Standish 

[98] 



SEPTEMBER TWENTIETH 

This was the wedding morn of Priscilla the Puri- 
tan maiden. 

Friends were assembled together; the Elder and 
Magistrate also 

Graced the scene with their presence, and stood 
like the Law and the Gospel, 

One with the san6tion of earth and one with the 
blessing of Heaven. 

The Courtship of Miles Standish 

SEPTEMBER TWENTY-FIRST 

Even as rivulets twain, from distant and separate 

sources, 
Seeing each other afar, as they leap from the rocks, 

and pursuing 
Each one its devious path, but drawing nearer 

and nearer. 
Rush together at last, at their trysting-place in the 

forest ; 
So these lives that had run thus far in separate 

channels. 
Coming in sight of each other, then swerving and 

flowing asunder, 
Parted by barriers strong, but drawing nearer and 

nearer. 
Rushed together at last, and one was lost in the 

other. 

The Courtship of Miles Standish 



[99] 



SEPTEMBER TWENTY-SECOND 

Simple and brief was the wedding, as that of Ruth 

and of Boaz. 
Softly the youth and the maiden repeated the 

words of betrothal, 
Taking each other for husband and wife in the 

Magistrate's presence. 
After the Puritan way, and the laudable custom 

of Holland. 

the Courtship of Miles Standish 

SEPTEMBER TWENTY-THIRD 

Touched with autumnal tints, but lonely and sad 

in the sunshine. 
Lay extended before them the land of toil and 

privation j 
There were the graves of the dead, and the barren 

waste of the seashore. 
There the familiar fields, the groves of pine, and 

the meadows; 
But to their eyes transfigured, it seemed as the 

Garden of Eden, 
Filled with the presence of God, whose voice was 

the sound of the ocean. 

The Courtship of Miles Standish 

SEPTEMBER TWENTY-FOURTH 

Down through the golden leaves the sun was pour- 
ing his splendors. 
Gleaming on purple grapes, that, from branches 
above them suspended, 

[ 100 ] 



Mingled their odorous breath with the balm of 

the pine and the fir-tree, 
Wild and sweet as the clusters that grew in the 

valley of Eshcol. 

'the Courtship of Miles Standish 

SEPTEMBER TWENTY-FIFTH 

Like a pidure it seemed of the primitive, pastoral 
ages, 

Fresh with the youth of the world, and recalling 
Rebecca and Isaac, 

Old and yet ever new, and simple and beautiful 
always, 

Love immortal and young in the endless succes- 
sion of lovers. 

So through the Plymouth woods passed onward 
the bridal procession. 

The Courtship of Miles Standish 

SEPTEMBER TWENTY-SIXTH 

The morrow was a bright September morn ; 
The earth was beautiful as if new-born ; 
There was that nameless splendor everywhere, 
That wild exhilaration in the air. 
Which makes the passers in the city street 
Congratulate each other as they meet. 

The falcon of Ser Federigo 

(tales of a IVaysiie Inn J 



[ 'O' ] 



SEPTEMBER TWENTY-SEVENTH 

Through the closed blinds the golden sun 

Poured in a dusty beam, 
Like the celestial ladder seen 

By Jacob in his dream. 

And ever and anon, the wind, 
Sweet-scented with the hay, 
Turned o'er the hymn-book's fluttering leaves 

That on the window lay. 

A Gleam of Sunshine 

SEPTEMBER TWENTY-EIGHTH 

Come, read to me some poem. 

Some simple and heartfelt lay, 
That shall soothe this restless feeling, 

And banish the thoughts of day. 

And the night shall be filled with music, 

And the cares, that infest the day, 

Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs, 

And as silently steal away. 

Tlie Day is Dom 

SEPTEMBER TWENTY-NINTH 

Big words do not smite like war-clubs, 
Boastful breath is not a bow-string. 
Taunts are not so sharp as arrows, 
Deeds are better things than words are, 
A6lions mightier than boastings ! 

'T/ie Song of Hianvatha 

[ '02 ] 



SEPTEMBER THIRTIETH 

You do not look on life and death as I do. 
There are two angels, that attend unseen 
Each one of us, and in great books record 
Our good and evil deeds. He who writes down 
The good ones, after every adlion closes 
His volume, and ascends with it to God. 
The other keeps his dreadful day-book open 
Till sunset, that we may repent ; which doing, 
The record of the adion fades away. 
And leaves a line of white across the page. 

The Golden Legend 



[ 103 1 



OCTOBER 

OCTOBER FIRST 

THOU comest, Autumn, heralded by the rain, 
With banners, by great gales incessant fanned. 
Brighter than brightest silks of Samarcand, 
And stately oxen harnessed to thy wain ! 
Thou standest, like imperial Charlemagne, 
Upon thy bridge of gold ; thy royal hand 
Outstretched with benedidions o'er the land. 

Autumn 

fSonnetsJ 

OCTOBER SECOND 

Blessing the farms through all thy vast domain. 
Thy shield is the red harvest moon, suspended 
So long beneath the heavens' o'erhanging eaves. 
Thy steps are by the farmer's prayers attended ; 
Like flames upon an altar shine the sheaves; 
And, following thee, in thy ovation splendid. 
Thine almoner, the wind, scatters the golden 
leaves ! 

Autumn 

f Sonnets J 



I 105 ] 



OCTOBER THIRD 

The day is cold, and dark, and dreary; 

It rains, and the wind is never weary; 

The vine still clings to the mouldering wall, 

But at every gust the dead leaves fall, 

And the day is dark and dreary. 

The Rainy Day 

OCTOBER FOURTH 

My life is cold, and dark, and dreary; 
It rains, and the wind is never weary; 
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past, 
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast, 
And the days are dark and dreary. 

The Rainy Day 

OCTOBER FIFTH 

Be still, sad heart ! and cease repining; 
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining; 
Thy fate is the common fate of all. 
Into each life some rain must fall. 
Some days must be dark and dreary. 

The Rainy Day 

OCTOBER SIXTH 

Men have no faith in fine-spun sentiment 
Who put their trust in bullocks and in beeves. 

The Birds of KillingHvorth 



[ «o6] 



OCTOBER SEVENTH 

And so the dreadful massacre began ; 

O'er fields and orchards, and o'er woodland 



crests, 



The ceaseless fusillade of terror ran. 

Dead fell the birds, with blood-stains on their 
breasts, 
Or wounded crept away from sight of man. 

While the young died of famine in their nests; 
A slaughter to be told in groans, not words, 
The very St. Bartholomew of Birds ! 

The Birds of Killing^vorth 

OCTOBER EIGHTH 

Without the light of his majestic look. 
The wonder of the falling tongues of flame. 

The illumined pages of his Doom's-Day book. 
A few lost leaves blushed crimson with their shame, 

Anddrowned themselves despairing in the brook, 
While the wild wind went moaning everywhere, 
Lamenting the dead children of the air ! 

The Birds of Killingnvorth 

OCTOBER NINTH 

There is a beautiful spirit breathing now 
Its mellow richness on the clustered trees. 
And, from a beaker full of richest dyes, 
Pouring new glory on the autumn woods. 
And dipping in warm light the pillared clouds. 



Autumn 

(Earlier Poems J 



[ 107 I 



OCTOBER TENTH 

Morn on the mountain, like a summer bird, 
Lifts up her purple wing, and in the vales • 
The gentle wind, a sweet and passionate wooer, 
Kisses the blushing leaf, and stirs up life 
Within the solemn woods of ash deep-crimsoned. 
And silver beech, and maple yellow-leaved, 
Where autumn, like a faint old man, sits down 

By the wayside a-weary. 

Autumn 

(Earlier Poems) 

OCTOBER ELEVENTH 

Yet in this age 

We need another Hildebrand, to shake 

And purify us like a mighty wind. 

The world is wicked, and sometimes I wonder 

God does not lose his patience with it wholly, 

And shatter it like glass! 

The Golden Legend 

OCTOBER TWELFTH 

Behold of what delusive worth 
The bubbles we pursue on earth, 
The shapes we chase, 
Amid a world of treachery ! 
They vanish ere death shuts the eye 
And leave no trace. 



[ 'o8] 



Time steals them from us, — chances strange, 

Disastrous accidents, and change. 

That come to all ; 

Even in the most exalted state, 

Relentless sweeps the stroke of fate ; 

The strongest fall. 

Coplas de Manrique 

OCTOBER THIRTEENTH 

Tell me, — the charms that lovers seek 

In the clear eye and blushing cheek. 

The hues that play 

O'er rosy lip and brow of snow. 

When hoary age approaches slow. 

Ah, where are they ? 

Coplas de Manrique 

OCTOBER FOURTEENTH 
Be noble in every thought 
And in every deed ! 
Let not the illusion of thy senses 
Betray thee to deadly offences. 
Be strong ! be good ! be pure ! 
The right only shall endure. 
All things else are but false pretences. 

The Golden Legend 



[ 109 1 



OCTOBER FIFTEENTH 

Ah ! if thy fate, with anguish fraught, 
Should be to wet the dusty soil 
With the hot tears and sweat of toil, — 
To struggle with imperious thought, 
Until the overburdened brain, 
. Weary with labor, faint with pain, 
Like a jarred pendulum, retain 
Only its motion, not its power, — 
Remember, in that perilous hour, 
When most afflicted and oppressed, 
From labor there shall come forth rest. 

To a Child 

OCTOBER SIXTEENTH 

Methinks I see thee stand, with pallid cheeks. 

By P'ra Hilario in his diocese. 
As up the convent-walls, in golden streaks. 

The ascending sunbeams mark the day's de- 
crease. 
And, as he asks what there the stranger seeks. 
Thy voice along the cloister whispers, " Peace ! " 

Dante 

OCTOBER SEVENTEENTH 

Slowly, slowly up the wall 

Steals the sunshine, steals the shade ; 

Evening damps begin to fall, 
Evening shadows are displayed. 



[ 1,0] 



Round me, o'er me, everywhere, 

All the sky is grand with clouds, 
And athwart the evening air 

Wheel the swallows home in crowds, 
Shafts of sunshine from the west 

Paint the dusky windows red ; 
Darker shadows, deeper rest, 

Underneath and overhead. 

The Golden Legend 

OCTOBER EIGHTEENTH 

Darker, darker, and more wan. 

In my breast the shadows fall ; 
Upward steals the life of man, 

As the sunshine from the wall. 
From the wall into the sky. 

From the roof along the spire ; 
Ah, the souls of those that die 

Are but sunbeams lifted higher. 

The Golden Legend 

OCTOBER NINETEENTH 

In that hour of deep contrition, 
He beheld, with clearer vision. 
Through all outward show and fashion^ 
Justice, the Avenger, rise. 



[II. ] 



All the pomp of earth had vanished, 
Falsehood and deceit were banished, 
Reason spake more loud than passion, 
And the truth wore no disguise. 

'The Norman Baron 

OCTOBER TWENTIETH 

I have read, in the marvellous heart of man, 

That strange and mystic scroll. 
That an army of phantoms vast and wan 

Beleaguer the human soul. 

Encamped beside Life's rushing stream, 

In Fancy's misty light, 

Gigantic shapes and shadows gleam 

Portentous through the night. 

The Beleaguered City 

OCTOBER TWENTY-FIRST 

And, when the solemn and deep church-bell 

Entreats the soul to pray. 
The midnight phantoms feel the spell, 

The shadows sweep away. 

Down the broad Vale of Tears afar 

The spe6lral camp is fled ; 

Faith shineth as a morning star. 

Our ghostly fears are dead. 

The Beleaguered City 



[ i»2] 



OCTOBER TWENTY-SECOND 

The night is silent, the wind is still, 
The moon is looking from yonder hill 
Down upon convent, and grove, and garden ; 
The clouds have passed away from her face. 
Leaving behind them no sorrowful trace, 
Only the tender and quiet grace 
Of one, whose heart has been healed with pardon. 

The Golden Legend 

OCTOBER TWENTY-THIRD 

And such am I. My soul within 

Was dark with passion and soiled with sin. 

But now its wounds are healed again ; 

Gone are the anguish, the terror, and pain ; 

For across that desolate land of woe. 

O'er whose burning sands I was forced to go, 

A wind from heaven began to blow ; 

And all my being trembled and shook, 

As the leaves of the tree, or the grass of the field. 

And I was healed, as the sick are healed. 

When fanned by the leaves of the Holy Book ! 

The Golden Legend 

OCTOBER TWENTY-FOURTH 
God sent his Singers upon earth 
With songs of sadness and of mirth, 
That they might touch the hearts of men, 
And bring them back to heaven again. 

The Singers 

[ "3 1 



OCTOBER TWENTY-FIFTH 

Thy dress was like the b'lies; 

And thy heart as pure as they : 
One of God's holy messengers 

Did walk with me that day. 

But now, alas ! the place seems changed 5 

Thou art no longer here : 
Part of the sunshine of the scene 

With thee did disappear. 

A Gleam of Sunshine 

OCTOBER TWENTY-SIXTH 

She is a precious jewel I have found 
Among the filth and rubbish of the world. 
I '11 stoop for it ; but when I wear it here, 
Set on my forehead like the morning star, 
The world may wonder, but it will not laugh. 

T:'he Spanish Student 

OCTOBER TWENTY-SEVENTH 

As thou sittest in the moonlight there, 

Its glory flooding thy golden hair. 

And the only darkness that which lies 

In the haunted chambers of thine eyes, 

I feel my soul drawn unto thee. 

Strangely, and strongly, and more and more. 

As to one I have known and loved before ; 

For every soul is akin to me 

That dwells in the land of mystery ! 

The Golden Legend 



OCTOBER TWENTY-EIGHTH 

When the hours of Day are numbered, 

And the voices of the Night 
Wake the better soul, that slumbered, 
To a holy, calm delight j 

Then the forms of the departed 

Enter at the open door; 
The beloved, the true-hearted, 

Come to visit me once more. 

Footsteps of Angels 

OCTOBER TWENTY-NINTH 

It v^^as Autumn, and incessant 

Piped the quails from shocks and sheaves, 
And, like living coals, the apples 
Burned among the withering leaves. 

Pegasus in Pound 
OCTOBER THIRTIETH 

The purple finch. 
That on wild cherry and red cedar feeds, 
A winter bird, comes with its plaintive whistle, 
And pecks by the witch-hazel, whilst aloud 
From cottage roofs the warbling bluebird sings. 

Autumn 

f Earlier Poems J 

OCTOBER THIRTY-FIRST 

A sober gladness the old year takes up 
His bright inheritance of golden fruits, 
A pomp and pageant fill the splendid scene. 

Autumn 

_ , CE-irlirr Poem! J 

[ 115 ] 



NOVEMBER 



NOVEMBER FIRST 

OWHAT a glory doth this world put on 
For him who, with a fervent heart, goes forth 
Under the bright and glorious sky, and looks 
On duties well performed, and days well spent ! 
For 'him the wind, ay, and the yellow leaves 
Shall have a voice, and give him eloquent teach- 
ings. 
He shall so hear the solemn hymn, that Death 
Has lifted up for all, that he shall go 
To his long resting-place without a tear. 

Autumn 

(Earlier Poems) 

NOVEMBER SECOND 

Ye children, does Death e'er alarm you ? 
Death is the brother of Love, twin-brother is he, 

and is only 
More austere to behold. With a kiss upon lips 

that are fading 
Takes he the soul and departs, and rocked in the 

arms of afFeftion, 
Places the ransomed child, new born, Yore the face 

of its father. 

The Children of the hordes Supper 

I t'7] 



NOVEMBER THIRD 

There is no Death ! What seems so is transition. 

This life of mortal breath 

Is but a suburb of the life elysian. 

Whose portal we call Death. 

Resignation 

NOVEMBER FOURTH 

Earthly desires and sensual lust 

Are passions springing from the dust, — 

They fade and die ; 

But, in the Hfe beyond the tomb, 

They seal the immortal spirit's doom 

Eternally ! 

Coplas de Manrique 

NOVEMBER FIFTH 

Think of this, O Hiawatha ! 
Speak of it to all the people. 
That henceforward and forever 
They no more with lamentations 
Sadden the souls of the departed 

In the Islands of the Blessed. 

The Song of Hianvatha 

NOVEMBER SIXTH 

Clear fount of light ! my native land on high 
Bright with a glory that shall never fade ! 
Mansion of truth ! without a veil or shade, 
Thy holy quiet meets the spirit's eye. 

[ "8] 



There dwells the soul in its ethereal essence, 
Gasping no longer for life's feeble breath ; 
But, sentinelled in heaven, its glorious presence 
With pitying eye beholds, yet fears not, death. 

T^he tiatinje Land 

NOVEMBER SEVENTH 

Beloved country ! banished from thy shore, 
A stranger in this prison-house of clay, 
The exiled spirit weeps and sighs for thee ! 
Heavenward the bright perfeftions I adore 
Direct, and the sure promise cheers the way. 
That, whither love aspires, there shall my dwell- 
ing be. 

The Nati've Land 

NOVEMBER EIGHTH 

All houses wherein men have lived and died 

Are haunted houses. Through the open doors. 
The harmless phantoms on their errands glide. 
With feet that make no sound upon the floors. 

The spirit-world around this world of sense 
Floats like an atmosphere, and everywhere 

Wafts through these earthly mists and vapors dense 
A vital breath of more ethereal air. 

Haunted Hoiues 



[ "9] 



NOVEMBER NINTH 

Our little lives are kept in equipoise 
By opposite attractions and desires ; 

The struggle of the instindl that enjoys, 
And the more noble instin(5l that aspires. 

These perturbations, this perpetual jar 
Of earthly wants and aspirations high. 

Come from the influence of an unseen star, 
An undiscovered planet in our sky. 

Haunted Houses 

NOVEMBER TENTH 

And as the moon from some dark gate of cloud 

Throw^s o'er the sea a floating bridge of light, 
Across whose trembling planks our fancies crowd 

Into the realm of mystery and night, — 

So from the world of spirits there descends 
A bridge of light, conne6ling it with this, 

O'er whose unsteady floor, that sways and bends, 
Wander our thoughts above the dark abyss. 

Haunted Houses 

NOVEMBER ELEVENTH 

As, at the tramp of a horse's hoof on the turf of 
the prairies. 

Far in advance are closed the leaves of the shrink- 
ing mimosa, 



[ 120 ] 



So, at the hoof-beats of fate, with sad forebodings 

of evil. 
Shrinks and closes the heart, ere the stroke of doom 
has attained it. 

E'vangeline 
NOVEMBER TWELFTH 

O gentle spirit ! Thou didst bear unmoved 
Blasts of adversity and frosts of fate ! 
But the first ray of sunshine that falls on thee 
Melts thee to tears ! O, let thy weary heart 
Lean upon mine ! and it shall faint no more, 
Nor thirst, nor hunger; but be comforted 
And filled with my affedion. 

The- Spanish Student 

NOVEMBER THIRTEENTH 

Then come the wild weather, come sleet or come 

snow, 
We will stand by each other, however it blow. 

Oppression, and sickness, and sorrow, and pain. 
Shall be to our true love as links to the chain. 

Annie of 77taraiv 
NOVEMBER FOURTEENTH 

As the palm-tree standeth so straight and so tall, 
The more the hail beats, and the more the rains 
fall,— 

So love in our hearts shall grow mighty and strong, 
Through crosses, through sorrows, through mani- 
fold wrong. 

Annie of Thara^ 
[ 121] 



NOVEMBER FIFTEENTH 

Ah, how skilful grows the hand 

That obeyeth Love's command ! 

It is the heart, and not the brain, 

That to the highest doth attain, 

And he who followeth Love's behest 

Far exceedeth all the rest ! 

T^he Building of the Ship 

NOVEMBER SIXTEENTH 

Alas ! the world is full of peril ! 

The path that runs through the fairest meads, 

On the sunniest side of the valley, leads 

Into a region bleak and sterile ! 

Alike in the high-born and the lowly, 

The will is feeble, and passion strong. 

We cannot sever right from wrong ; 

Some falsehood mingles with all truth ; 

Nor is it strange the heart of youth 

Should waver and comprehend but slowly 

The things that are holy and unholy ! 

The Golden Legend 

NOVEMBER SEVENTEENTH 

Hereafter? — And do you think to look 
On the terrible pages of that Book 

To find her failings, faults, and errors? 
Ah, you will then have other cares, 
In your own short-comings and despairs, 

In your own secret sins and terrors ! 

/// thf Churchyard at Cambridge 

[ '22 1 



NOVEMBER EIGHTEENTH 

It has been truly said by some wise man, 
That money, grief, and love cannot be hidden. 

'The Spanish Student 

NOVEMBER NINETEENTH 

Come back ! ye friendships long departed ! 
That like o'erflowing streamlets started. 
And now are dwindled, one by one, 
To stony channels in the sun ! 
Come back ! ye friends, whose lives are ended ! 
Come back, with all that light attended. 
Which seemed to darken and decay 
When ye arose and went av/ay ! 

The Golden Legend 

NOVEMBER TWENTIETH 

Let me but hear thy voice, and I am happy; 
For every tone, like some sweet incantation 
Calls up the buried past to plead for me. 

The Spanish Student 

NOVEMBER TWENTY-FIRST 

There is a poor, blind Samson in this land, 

Shorn of his strength, and bound in bonds of 
steel. 
Who may, in some grim revel, raise his hand, 
And shake the pillars of this Commonweal, 
Till the vast Temple of our liberties 
A shapeless mass of wreck and rubbish lies. 

The IVarning 
[ 123 ] 



NOVEMBER TWENTY-SECOND 

All is but a symbol painted 

Of the Poet, Prophet, Seer ; 
Only those are crowned and sainted 
Who with grief have been acquainted, 
Making nations nobler, freer. 



Prometheus 



NOVEMBER TWENTY-THIRD 

God sent his messenger of faith, 

And whispered in the maiden's heart, 

"Rise up, and look from where thou art, 

And scatter with unselfish hands 

Thy freshness on the barren sands 

And solitudes of Death." 

The Golden Legend 

NOVEMBER TWENTY-FOURTH 

Whereunto is money good ? 

Who has it not wants hardihood. 

Who has it has much trouble and care. 

Who once has had it has despair. 

• Poetic Aphorisms 

NOVEMBER TWENTY-FIFTH 

That's what I always say; if you wish a thing to 

be well done. 

You must do it yourself, you must not leave it to 

others 1 

The Courtship of Miles Standish 



NOVEMBER TWENTY-SIXTH 

Christ to the young man said : " Yet one thing 
more : 

If thou wouldst perfect be, 
Sell all thou hast and give it to the poor, 

And come and follow me 1 " 

Within this temple Christ again, unseen, 

Those sacred words hath said. 
And his invisible hands to-day have been 

Laid on a young man's head. 

Hymn. "For my Brother s Ordination^'' 

NOVEMBER TWENTY-SEVENTH 

And evermore beside him on his way 

The unseen Christ shall move. 
That he may lean upon his arm and say, 

"Dost thou, dear Lord, approve?'* 

O holy trust ! O endless sense of rest ! 

Like the beloved John 
To lay his head upon the Saviour's breast, 

And thus to journey on ! 

Hymn. " For my Brother s Ordination " 

NOVEMBER TWENTY-EIGHTH 

Lutheran, Popish, Calvinistic, all these creeds and 
doftrines three 

Extant are; but still the doubt is, where Chris- 
tianity may be. 

Poetic Aphorisms 

[ «25] 



NOVEMBER TWENTY-NINTH 

A millstone and the human heart are driven ever 

round ; 
If they have nothing else to grind, they must 

themselves be ground. 

Poetic Aphorisms 

NOVEMBER THIRTIETH 

Joy and Temperance and Repose 
Slam the door on the do6lor's nose. 

Poetic Aphorisms 



[ '^6] 



DECEMBER 



DECEMBER FIRST 

LEAFLESS are the trees ; their purple branches 
Spread themselves abroad, like reefs of coral, 
Rising silent 
In the Red Sea of the Winter sunset. 

The Golden Mile-Stone 

DECEMBER SECOND 

Each man's chimney is his Golden Mile-Stone; 
Is the central point, from which he measures 

Every distance 
Through the gateways of the world around him. 

'The Golden Mile-Stone 

DECEMBER THIRD 

By the fireside there are peace and comfort, 
Wives and children, with fair, thoughtful faces, 

Waiting, watching 
For a well-known footstep in the passaga. 

We may build more splendid habitations, 

Fill our rooms with paintings and with sculptures. 

But we cannot 
Buy with gold the old associations ! 

The Golden Mile-Stom 

[ 127 ] 



DECEMBER FOURTH 

"When I shake my hoary tresses," 
Said the old man, darkly frowning, 
"All the land with snow is covered; 
All the leaves from all the branches 
Fall and fade and die and wither, 
For I breathe, and lo ! they are not. 
From the waters and the marshes 
Rise the wild goose and the heron, 
Fly away to distant regions. 
For I speak, and lo ! they are not." 

T^he Song of Hia-watha 

DECEMBER FIFTH 

Cover the embers. 

And put out the light; 

Toil comes with the morning, 

And rest with the night. 

Curfenxf 

DECEMBER SIXTH 

Our hearts are lamps forever burning, 
With a steady and unwavering flame, 
Pointing upward, forever the same. 
Steadily upward toward the Heaven ! 

The Golden Legend 



I 128 ] 



DECEMBER SEVENTH 

There is no flock, however watched and tended, 

But one dead lamb is there ! 
There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended, 

But has one vacant chair ! 

Resignation 

DECEMBER EIGHTH 

Better is Death than Life ! Ah yes ! to thousands 

Death plays upon a dulcimer, and sings 

That song of consolation, till the air 

Rings with it, and they cannot choose but follow 

Whither he leads. And not the old alone, 

But the young also hear it, and are still. 

The Golden Legend 

DECEMBER NINTH 

The grave itself is but a covered bridge. 
Leading from light to light through a brief dark- 
ness. 

The Golden Legend 

DECEMBER TENTH 
Thus the Seer, 
With vision clear. 
Sees forms appear and disappear, 
In the perpetual round of strange. 
Mysterious change 

From birth to death, from death to birth, 
From earth to heaven, from heaven to earth ; 

[ 129 ] 



Till glimpses more sublime 

Of things, unseen before, 

Unto his wondering eyes reveal 

The Universe, as an immeasurable vi^heel 

Turning for evermore 

In the rapid and rushing river of Time. 

Rain in Summer 

DECEMBER ELEVENTH 

Love keeps the cold out better than a cloak. 
It serves for food and raiment. 

The Golden Legend 

DECEMBER TWELFTH 

Whilom Love w^as like a fire, and warmth and 

comfort it bespoke; 

But, alas ! it now is quenched, and only bites us, 

like the smoke. 

Poetic Aphorisms 

DECEMBER THIRTEENTH 

But Hope no longer 

Comforts my soul. I am a wretched man, 

Much like a poor and shipwrecked mariner, 

Who, struggling to climb up into the boat, 

Has both his bruised and bleeding hands cut ofF, 

And sinks again into the weltering sea, 

Helpless and hopeless! 

the Spanish Student 



[ 130 ] 



DECEMBER FOURTEENTH 

More hearts are breaking in this world of ours 
Than one would say. In distant villages 
And solitudes remote, where winds have wafted 
The barbed seeds of love, or birds of passage 
Scattered them in their flight, do they take^root, 
And grow in silence, and in silence perish. 
Who hears the falling of the forest leaf? 
Or who takes note of every flower that dies? 

T^he Spanish Student 

DECEMBER FIFTEENTH 
Into the Silent Land ! 
Ah ! who shall lead us thither ? 
Clouds in the evening sky more darkly gather. 
And shattered wrecks lie thicker on the strand. 
Who leads us with a gentle hand 
Thither, O thither. 
Into the Silent Land ? 

Song of the Silent Land 

DECEMBER SIXTEENTH 
Into the Silent Land ! 
To you, ye boundless regions 
Of all perfedion! Tender morning visions 
Of beauteous souls ! The Future's pledge and band 
Who in Life's battle firm doth stand, 
Shall bear Hope's tender blossoms 
Into the Silent Land ! 

Song of the Silent Land 

[ 131 ] 



DECEMBER SEVENTEENTH 

O Land ! O Land ! 

For all the broken-hearted 

The mildest herald by our fate allotted, 

Beckons, and with inverted torch doth stand 

To lead us with a gentle hand 

Into the land of the great Departed, 

Into the Silent Land ! 

Song of the Silent Land 

DECEMBER EIGHTEENTH 

Where, from their frozen urns, mute springs 

Pour out the river^s gradual tide, 
Shrilly the skater's iron rings, 

And voices fill the woodland side. 

Alas ! how changed from the fair scene, 
When birds sang out their mellow lay, 

And winds were soft, and woods were green, 
And the song ceased not with the day. 

Woods in Winter 

DECEMBER NINETEENTH 

The poor too often turn away unheard 

From hearts that shut against them with a sound 

That will be heard in heaven. Pray, tell me more 

Of your adversities. 

The Spanish Student 



[ 132 ] 



DECEMBER TWENTIETH 

Works do follow us all unto God ; there stand and 

bear witness 
Not what they seemed, — but what they were 

only. Blessed is he who 
Hears their confession secure ; they are mute upon 

earth until death's hand 
Opens the mouth of the silent. 

'The Children of the Lord's Supper 

DECEMBER TWENTY-FIRST 

Therefore love and believe ; for works will follow 
spontaneous 

Even as day does the sun; the Right from the 
Good is an offspring, 

Love in a bodily shape ; and Christian works are 
no more than 

Animate Love and Faith, as flowers are the ani- 
mate spring-tide. 

The Children of the Lord's Supper 

DECEMBER TWENTY-SECOND 

Our Lord and Master, 
When he departed, left us in his will. 
As our best legacy on earth, the poor ! 
These we have always with us ; had we not, 
Our hearts would grow as hard as are these stones. 

The Golden Legend 



[ 133 J 



To a Child 



DECEMBER TWENTY-THIRD 

Still let it ever be thy pride 
To linger by the laborer's side ; 
With words of sympathy or song 
To cheer the dreary march along 
Of the great army of the poor, 
O'er desert sand, o'er dangerous moor. 
Nor to thyself the task shall be 
Without reward ; for thou shalt learn 
The wisdom early to discern 
True beauty in utility. 

DECEMBER TWENTY-FOURTH 

Shepherds at the grange. 

Where the Babe was born, 

Sang, with many a change, 
Christmas carols until morn. 

Let us by the fire 

Ever higher 
Sing them till the night expire ! 

A Christmas Carol 

DECEMBER TWENTY-FIFTH 

Hail to thee, Jesus of Nazareth ! 
Though in a manger thou drawest thy breath, 
Thou art greater than Life and Death, 
Greater than Joy or Woe ! 



t >34 3 



This cross upon the line of life 

Portendeth struggle, toil, and strife, 

And through a region with dangers rife 

In darkness shalt thou go ! 

the Golden Legend 

DECEMBER TWENTY-SIXTH 
O the long and dreary Winter ! 
O the cold and cruel Winter ! 
Ever thicker, thicker, thicker 
Froze the ice on lake and river, 
Ever deeper, deeper, deeper 
Fell the snow o'er all the landscape, 
Fell the covering snow, and drifted 
Through the forest, round the village. 

the Song of Hianvatha 

DECEMBER TWENTY-SEVENTH 

Winter giveth the fields and the trees, so old, 

Their beards of icicles and snow ; 
And the rain, it raineth so fast and cold, 
We must cower over the embers low; 
And, snugly housed from the wind and weather, 
Mope like birds that are changing feather. 

Spring 



['35 I 



DECEMBER TWENTY-EIGHTH 
O holy Father ! pardon in me 
The oscillation of a mind 
Unsteadfast, and that cannot find 
Its centre of rest and harmony ! 
For evermore before mine eyes 
This ghastly phantom flits and flies, 
And as a madman through a crowd, 
With frantic gestures and wild cries. 
It hurries onward, and aloud 
Repeats its awful prophecies ! 
Weakness is wretchedness ! To be strong 
Is to be happy ! I am weak. 
And cannot find the good I seek. 
Because I feel and fear the wrong ! 

The Golden Legend 

DECEMBER TWENTY-NINTH 

We have not wings, we cannot soar; 

But we have feet to scale and climb 
By slow degrees, by more and more, 

The cloudy summits of our time. 

The mighty pyramids of stone 

That wedge-like cleave the desert airs, 

When nearer seen, and better known, 
Are but gigantic flights of stairs. 

The Ladder of St. Augustine 



[136] 



DECEMBER THIRTIETH 

Nor deem the irrevocable Past, 

As wholly wasted, wholly vain, 
If, rising on its wrecks, at last 

To something nobler we attain. 

The Ladder of St. Augustine 

DECEMBER THIRTY-FIRST 

The book is completed. 

And closed, like the day ; 
And the hand that has written it 

Lays it away, 

Curfenv 



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